Fire and Ice
by Cherylann Rivers
Summary: The Hardys are working on a case that hits a bit too close to home when Callie and Vanessa are witnesses to a serious crime. Unable to solve the case on their own, the Hardys ask Nancy Drew for help in one of the most serious crimes they have encountered.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first time that I have submitted a story on , although I have enjoyed reading on the site for several years. This story is completed, in its entirety, and chapters will be updated every two or every three days-- Promise! :) Hope you enjoy it!

Prologue

"Fire and Ice"

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-- Robert Frost

It took him a moment to register the scene unfolding before him. For a moment, one sweet, transitory moment, it seemed to him that he was watching a scene from a movie unfold. It was too bright, too powerful, too surreal actually to be happening.

But it was.

And just as illusory as that moment was, reality came upon him even faster. Snapping back to his senses, he started to run, his feet carrying him faster than he ever thought possible. He felt his heart thumping in his chest; at the same time, he knew he was suffocating, unable to breathe. For once in his lifetime, he didn't think. Instinct took control. Sprinting fast-forward in slow motion, he saw himself heading towards disaster. And he didn't care. He had to reach her. Now.

"Oh. God."

He watched his brother disappear into the fiery flames. Ten minutes ago…five… two…. the day had been still and silent, and everything that seemed to be of the utmost importance, things that had seemed life-altering, no longer mattered.

"This can't be happening." He felt the words emanate from his mouth. Then he could not talk. He could only run, praying that Father Time would grant him just a few minutes more.

He saw the bomb explode, the car disappear in a tornado of flame and shrapnel and glass. He saw her, going towards the car, keys in her hand, angry. Hurt? Resigned?

Images whirled in his mind as he chased after his brother. Had this happened before? Was it happening now? What was real and what was not?!

Finally, carried by some un-natural force, he caught him, diving on top of his brother, who immediately shoved him off. Had he always been this strong?

Flailing, he tackled his brother again. As they fought, fists swinging, he could barely discern him… all that remained was a ghost beneath him, covered in ashes, struggling, as he was, gasping for breath.

"Let… me… go."

It HAD happened before. He began to lose focus.

He broke out in a sweat, waiting for the nightmare to end, as usual.

But it didn't.

Only this time, he was on the other end.

And it was happening.

Again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fire and Ice"

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 1

"Are you sure you're okay?" Twenty-four year old Frank Hardy asked his fiancée, Callie Shaw, wrapping his right arm around her in a hug as he did so. They were sitting in the food court of the Bayport Mall, taking a short reprieve from shopping for so many items that just added to the endless details of their upcoming wedding in four months.

Looking up from her iced tea, which she'd just realized she'd been stirring aimlessly, Callie found herself staring into Frank's handsome face, eyes dark with concern. Almost instantaneously, she felt the start of a smile tug at her lips, a reaction that still came so often after all of these years.

Feeling slightly relieved, Frank let out a small sigh and reached over to steal some of Callie's half-eaten French fries from her plate. Giving her one more hug, he speculated, "I guess this means you're not getting cold feet yet, huh?" and smiled. Chuckling, Callie reached up and gently ruffled his hair. "Nah, I'll keep you around," she replied. Then, leaning back, she added, "but it HAS been a long week, I'll admit that."

"That it has," Frank agreed, stretching his arms across his chest. Noticing Callie's quizzical look, he found himself laughing. "What?! You're giving me quite the workout making me carry all of these bags everywhere!"

"Poor baby," Callie replied, "especially since nothing in those bags is yours, right? Oh, wait," she teased, reaching over to sort through some of the bags laid out on the table. "That's MY 'Computer City,' bag, and MY 'Photojournalism' book, and then there's the …"

Callie was cut off as Frank gently covered her mouth with his hand. "Point taken," he conceded, "Even though when we're married, all of this will be yours, too. AND… " Frank continued, as Callie opened her mouth to speak, "before you respond 'oh, goody' or some other, probably well-deserved quip, can we call it a truce?"

"Good!" He smiled, taking away his hand from Callie's mouth and replacing it with a quick kiss.

Defeated, Callie rolled her eyes, unable to resist Frank's teasing. "Well," she replied, looking up at him with a smile, "I've always liked making up—even if we didn't have a fight to begin with!"

"Now THAT's compromise," he chuckled. "See? A great marriage in the works!"

After a few more minutes, the two headed out, making their way across the mall into the parking lot. Since it was a hot summer day, there were many more spaces available than usual, and, once Frank and Callie reached Callie's car and unloaded their bags, they both sighed with relief when they were able to finally sit down again. They had been shopping since early in the morning, while most of their friends were taking the Saturday afternoon easy, going to the beach, having barbeques, or simply relaxing. With the wedding coming so soon, however, and both of them being extremely organized, they had stuck to the initial plans to finalize invitations and work out other small but necessary wedding plans.

Now, however, the day was theirs. Sliding behind the wheel of Callie's car, Frank pressed the button for the convertible, whose roof soon disappeared. Having wanted a convertible for almost as long as he'd known her, Frank had finally convinced Callie to purchase one. And, after a lot of teasing about Frank's insistence on a totally impractical and too expensive car, having set aside logic for fun and impracticality for once, they had both enjoyed the new car for the last several months.

Still, as he started the car, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up with Callie. Knowing her as he did, he could pick up on the small nuances of her body language; the way she was just slightly quieter today than usual, the way she was adjusting her watch… it all added up to something, and he was determined to find out what it was. Therefore, instead of heading home, he decided to take a longer route, past the shore, and, after a little while, he pulled into a parking spot. Finally, Callie seemed to take notice of her surroundings.

"Want to take a walk?" he queried, lifting her sunglasses from face to meet her eyes.

Knowing she had been 'caught,' Callie replied sheepishly, "Sure. That'd be nice."

The two started off hand in hand and walked together in silence for a bit before stopping. Motioning for her to sit next to him, Frank sat down on the sand, and Callie joined him. Facing her, Frank took her hand and gazed at her once more, closely, to affirm that he'd been right, and he knew right way that he had been.

"Ok, Cal, out with it," he said, gently. "At the mall I asked if you were okay and I realized that I was 'being a guy' and didn't give you the chance to answer. I know you and I know you're not okay, and I want to help. Okay?" Squeezing her hand, he gave her a moment to reply, before adding, "I'll return the book on photojournalism, if that's it," he teased.

Of all the things he loved about Callie, right at the top was their ability to be open and honest with each other. She probably knew him better than almost anyone, and he knew he could say the same of her. Callie was his best friend, and was truly the most thoughtful and beautiful person he'd even known. As a result, he couldn't stand to see her upset, and he was determined now to find out what was wrong.

"I've been that obvious, huh?" she questioned, lacing her fingers through his.

"Maybe I just know you too well," he replied, gently.

"It's just a few things. Nothing to do with you. Promise." She crossed her fingers. "I just don't want to upset you by talking about anything that might.. you know.. upset you." Laughing despite herself, she continued. "That was eloquently stated, right?!"

Remaining serious, Frank pushed back a strand of her golden blonde hair behind her ear. "The only thing that would upset me is you NOT telling me what's bothering you," he said, sincerely.

Resigned, Callie continued. She had tried all day not to think about it, but she had to. "Frank, we're getting married in December. That's four months away. And I just... got to thinking…well, we've been together a long time." She paused, unsure of how to continue.

Seeing the look of confusion and upset cross Frank's face, she immediately recognized what he was thinking and caught herself. "Oh, hon. No, I mean, I want to get married. I can't wait to get married. That's not what I mean."

Frank let out a small breath, saying softly, "I was getting worried there for a second."

Squeezing his hand, Callie continued. "Frank, I didn't want to say anything to you, because I know you'd be mad at yourself for not thinking of it, but… " She paused, then went on,…"Next week marks the anniversary of-- well-- " she paused again, momentarily struck by the image that haunted her-- haunted all of them--"her death," she finished.

Frank started at her, patient, letting her continue, knowing she needed to. "That's why I wanted to come to the mall today. I don't know if you realized this, but we've come every year around this time. I always send flowers-- to her grave-- from both of us, you know? Every year. And Joe," she went on, referring to Frank's younger brother and Iola's old boyfriend, "he knows I do this. We talk about Iola, once a year, at this time. And even though he's with Vanessa now, and you know how we all love Vanessa, there's a part of all of us that will never forget. Vanessa respects that."

Callie bit her lip, and Frank smiled encouragingly at her. "Go on."

"Well," she began again, "I just got to thinking. Next year, at this time, we'll be married. So much has changed in seven years."

Frank nodded. So much HAD changed. A part of his life, of everyone who knew Iola's life, had been permanently altered from the moment that a car bomb, intended for him and his brother, detonated, taking away Iola's life in an instant. His once carefree and lively brother had gone through a tremendously dark and irresponsible period that, until he had met Vanessa Bender, had threatened to destroy him. It was this guilt that, to this day, made Joe so driven to "get the bad guys".

For Frank, the reality of Iola's death had left him with a lot of "what ifs". He had reflected on his life much differently from then on, and had tried to live his life as steadfastly as possible, holding those whom he loved as close as possible. Like a pebble thrown into water, the repercussions of that day were widespread and immeasurable. Now, years later, the waves were still felt.

So here he was today. Then, a high school senior. Now, a college graduate with a Masters degree in Forensics and Computer Science, engaged to marry his then high school sweetheart. He and his brother continued to work now as both detectives and law enforcement personnel. Then, he was uncertain of almost everything, although he never let most people see that. Now, he knew what he wanted and he was willing to do whatever it took to attain it. That goal, he knew, was stability and happiness. Looking at his future bride, he knew he had what he needed.

"Frank? Are you listening?" Callie looked at him with concern, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Of course, baby. I'm sorry. I was just thinking about what you were saying," he apologized.

"I guess I just think so much of what might have been, how it could have been me, or you, or Joe… any of us. Why her? I feel… guilty."

"Callie," Frank responded, tipping her face towards his. "We ALL feel guilty. And no one knows why. I just thank God.." Frank heard the catch in his voice and cleared his throat, "that it wasn't you- or Joe. And God knows I feel horrible saying that, and I miss Iola, too. If I could change that day, I would. But I can't. And so I pray for her."

Callie nodded, listening, blinking back tears.

"And I KNOW it's around the time of her death. And I also KNOW that's why we come to the mall each year."

Surprised, Callie could only stare at him.

Forcing a small smile, Frank went on. "I guess I'm surprising you here, but I also know that you send her flowers. I always tell the people after you place the order to double it- whatever it costs. I am also well aware of the fact that, two days before the anniversary of her death each year, you and my brother spend the day together, doing.. something. That's how you two started getting along," he went on, reminded of Joe and Callie's somewhat hostile feelings towards each other in their youth," and maybe why you're so close today. I mean, I pretty much ruled out the thought that the two of you were having some secret affair behind my back—it wasn't hard to figure out."

"You are something else," Callie managed, in awe.

"Callie," he went on, now holding both of her hands, " I also know that you're still upset about what happened last month. And you SHOULD be. So stop pretending to be so independent. You ARE brave, I know that. But stop pretending to be okay for my sake. Let me be here for you. Let me protect you, however I can. Talk to me. And you know I don't need an excuse to just hold you sometimes."

Callie looked down at their joined hands, trying to block out that terrible day last month. She, Vanessa, and two other acquaintances had been out shopping. They had gone to lunch, and simply enjoyed each other's company. As the day had waned away, and light began to cast its shadows, they departed for their respective homes. Deciding to walk part of the way, they had heard screaming and a scuffle in the distance. Running to find out what had been happening, they had heard gunshots go off, and watched as three men, dressed in dark clothing, had run out of an alley.

For a moment the men froze. All four girls had seen them, and they KNEW they had been seen. Callie was certain that, if they had still had their guns, they would have used them on the girls. Since Vanessa had called 9-1-1 when the scuffle had begun, there were sirens in the distance by the time they saw the men.

Two had taken off. But one- with cold blue eyes- stopped, looked right at them, and said, "There will be no witnesses. I promise that". He had pointed at each girl individually, brandishing a knife, taking them in with his eyes, and said, "I keep my promises." He had run off, along with the others, into the night.

Shaking, the girls waited for the police who had arrived within minutes. The three men hadn't been found. The girl in the alley, they later found out, had been beaten, raped, and killed.

Thus far, none of the suspects had been apprehended. Two weeks later, Mandy, a work friend of Vanessa's, had gone on a camping trip with her boyfriend. He had come back, but she was still missing, having disappeared on a trail. Although it could be a coincidence, and Mandy had not been found, living or dead, both Callie and Vanessa were terrified.

So were Frank and Joe, although neither one told each other just how much.

Knowing they had police connections, and their own detective skills, Frank and Joe had decided to start investigating this case on their own. It was far too personal not to. Knowing that they might need some help, Frank had called a close friend whom he hadn't seen in years, although they'd always kept in contact. Nancy Drew and her boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, would be arriving this week to help.

"Cal? It'll be okay." Reaching over to her, he hugged her tightly.

"Thanks," Callie managed, after a few minutes.

"For what?" Frank asked.

"For taking the time to ask; to care," Callie replied quietly. "For teaching me to remember Iola's life, and not focus on her death. For being a shoulder to cry on, and a hand to lift me up."

Despite the tenderness of the moment, Frank added, "For better or worse, for richer for poorer, till death…"

That got a gentle smack from Callie. "Hey!" Frank responded, holding up his hands. "It sounded like a wedding vow. I was just practicing!"

Shaking her head, Callie replied, "You have one job- show up. And you have two words – 'I do." Hopefully, you can handle that."

Smiling, Frank stood up and extended his hand to Callie to help her. At that moment, the sun glinted off Callie's engagement ring. "You know, Cal," Frank said, slipping an arm around her waist as they headed back to the car, "Your ring. The way it hit the light..."

"Were you blinded?" Callie teased, snuggling into his side.

"I AM wearing sunglasses," he smiled. "But... I don't know. It just struck me. Can something look like fire…"

"And ice?" Callie completed the thought, "at the same time?"

"Yeah," Frank replied, "exactly."

"I sometimes think that two opposites bring out the beauty in ach other, don't you? You know, like tall and dark next to small and blonde, male and female…"

"Right and wrong?" Frank laughed.

"For better or worse…" Callie teased.

Laughing, they headed off into the distance.

Despite the heat of the day, in the shadows, ice blue eyes followed their every move.


	3. Chapter 3

"Fire and Ice"

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 2

It was a calm, hot, and sunny afternoon. Despite the heat, there was a small breeze in the air that ruffled the trees and offered a small comfort in the midst of the day. The sky was bright blue, interrupted only by the occasional white cloud moving slowly across the sky like a boat in an endless ocean. "It's like heaven," he whispered softly, looking from the clouds back to the ground again. Smiling genuinely, he dropped the lone apple next to the headstone.

"For an angel," he heard a voice from behind him reply.

Turning slightly, Joe Hardy saw Callie Shaw come next to him and sit down by his side. Pushing his baseball cap lower on his face to block out the sun, he turned his blue eyes to her and repeated, "Yup. For an angel."

For a few moments, Joe and Callie stared down at Iola Morton's headstone, each lost in remembrance. Finally, taking notice of the seemingly out of place apple, Callie turned to her future brother-in-law and said, "Okay. Your turn. Tell me about Iola and apples."

Joe faced her, and beginning slowly, he started telling Callie the story that he had been reminded of lately.

The year that Iola had died had been a terrifying and life-altering one for him – for all of them. Looking back now, Joe found that so many of his days had passed by in a blur. In fact, that year was now a series of strongly remembered emotions, rather than any physical activity he could recall. The guilt had consumed him; were if not for Frank, especially, and the support of his friends and family, he knew he might not be here today.

The following year, he had come to Iola's gravesite for the first time around the anniversary of her death, and he had seen Callie there. He had frozen momentarily; it seemed somehow wrong that anyone should share in this moment with him, especially Callie. Frank's girlfriend, he'd thought, was the LAST person who should be there. Despite her friendship with Iola, and the fact that she had been present at the time of the explosion, there had always been a wall between the two of them. Callie was, he had thought, nosy, opinionated, and bossy, a girl who'd somehow stolen his brother's heart and would, inevitably, break it. He also knew that she thought of him as arrogant, stupid, a jock, and that he demanded more of Frank's time than was absolutely necessary.

Yet, despite these feelings, he had approached Iola's grave, too emotionally drained to even prepare to argue with Callie. She was there; he'd have to deal with it. Yet when he approached her, he saw that she had been crying, expressing a feeling he hadn't seen in her before.

And her words to him were even more surprising: "I'm so sorry, Joe. I know you wish it would have been me. I really cared about her, you know. I know you did, too." With that, she had looked up at him, squeezed his shoulder, just like his brother had always done to comfort him, and added, "I'll leave you alone with her."

Then, surprising even himself, he'd replied, "No, stay." They'd sat together a long time.

After the silence, which was surprisingly comforting, he had turned to her and said, "You know, Callie, I don't wish that it had been you who…it happened to. I wish it had been nobody."

"Yeah?" she'd said, taken aback. "Me, too." Then, after a pause, she'd added, "Did I ever tell you about the time Iola and I…."

And that had been the beginning of a major change in his life. Every year, he and Callie met to share stories of their times with Iola. Sometimes the stories were sad, most times they were happy, but most of all they served to remind each other of the real Iola and to help each other both remember her better and get a more complete picture of her. Sometimes it was Callie's year to tell the stories; they'd go places where she and Iola hung out together or where they'd had an especially good time. Other years, he'd be responsible for taking Callie places. In any case, every year it started out with a tangible object to begin the narrative. This year, it was the apple.

Through the years, he'd grown to really like Callie, to respect her, and, ultimately, to care for her like a close friend or a member of the family. He came to see her 'nosiness' as concern, her 'opinionated nature' to be thoughtful and intelligent, and her 'bossiness' to be non-existent. Above all, he knew that Callie really, truly loved his brother, and that was more important than anything else. He also knew that he could gradually let Callie see the "real" him that wasn't so 'stupid' or 'sexist.' Although they could still tease each other mercilessly, they'd grown up, together. And that, they both knew, had made Frank a lot happier. It had almost been a miracle, sent down by Iola. The ice had gradually melted away.

Now here they were. At the end of Joe's narrative, he found himself laughing along with Callie, thinking of the time Iola had tried to stuff apples down her shirt to look more 'endowed' – until the apple had rolled out of her blouse and onto the floor in the middle of one of the high school dances.

"Oh, wow," Callie laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. "She never told me about that."

"I wonder why!" Joe quipped, smiling. "Ready to go?" he then asked her.

"I think so," Callie replied. Then, they both opened up their cans of Coke, Iola's favorite soda, and touched them together, gently. "To Iola," she said. "To Iola," Joe replied. Then he added, blowing her a kiss, "The apple of my eye."

"Joe! That's atrocious!" she laughed, despite herself. Shaking her head, long blonde hair glinting in the sun, she linked her arm through Joe's as they headed away.

"Are you looking forward to tonight?" she queried.

Sighing inwardly, Joe tried to think of how to reply, "Well," he began, "I don't know if you'd call it 'looking forward.' I mean, this is a serious case, and the sooner we get answers, the better. And we WILL get answers," he said, seriously, looking down at Callie and meeting her eyes. "Don't worry. You know Frank and I won't let anything happen to you girls. Believe me, if Vanessa and Charlotte weren't at work right now, and Frank wasn't getting everything in order for tonight, we'd all be here together." He wanted to add how the thought of anything happening to Vanessa was incomprehensible to him, how he'd give his life to protect her, as he couldn't do for Iola. But he knew that some things were better felt than said.

"I know," Callie replied, shuddering at the memory of those icy blue eyes; that cold promise. "Still," she added, "It ought to be nice to have Nancy and Ned here. I mean, I've only met Nancy once, a long time ago – was it back in high school? But she seemed nice, if I remember her correctly. And from what I hear, she's a great detective, and I know Frank's really fond of her."

Having reached his car, Joe opened the door for Callie and walked around to the driver's seat, trying not to wince at Callie's inadvertent choice of words. Frank was crazy about Callie and he deeply loved her, Joe knew that, but he also knew that there were some things about Frank and Nancy that he didn't know, and that's what concerned him. Although they'd always denied anything more than a 'close friendship', Joe couldn't shake the feeling that there was more than met the eye with his brother and Nancy. He'd give Frank the benefit of the doubt any day, especially with Ned coming, but still…a gut reaction was telling him that something not good was coming with the arrival of their friends. And he was almost always right when it came to his instinct.

"Joe?" Callie looked at him with a concerned expression.

"Sorry," he huffed. Then, forcefully, changing his demeanor, he continued, "Maybe you're right. I guess any help that we can get on this case would be good."

Callie smiled.

"What?" Joe was getting pretty good at reading Callie, and he could tell there was a bit of mischief to Callie's expression, perhaps best described as a smirk.

"I'm proud of you, Joe," she replied. "The day you admit that you could use help from anyone, even a female, is admirable."

"Yeah, well," Joe grumbled under his breath, "This case is important, like I said."

"Mmmm -hmmm," Callie murmured, then laughed. "I'll get off the sexist thing, Joe – sorry. I just can't help myself sometimes when I think of the old stereotypes I had of you. " Then, her eyes darkening, she added, "I'll admit it; I'm still …you know…"

"Scared?" Joe asked, starting the car.

Callie blushed.

Joe paused, thinking of Vanessa. Fighting the urge to say, 'me, too,' he simply replied, "Don't be. It's okay." He looked straight through the windshield of the car.

"Thanks, Joe," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he replied, a small smile on his face.

"Anyway," Callie replied, "I'm sure Nancy can lend some real experience to the case. Frank mentioned to me what a great detective she was. He said that you never know what she's up to, and that she adds an element of surprise to a case. You never know where things will end up with her."

Again wincing at her diction, Joe turned on the radio, giving Callie a small wink. Shaking his head, he murmured to himself,

"Yeah, you never know."


	4. Chapter 4

"Fire and Ice"

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 4

Frank checked his watch for about the tenth time in as many minutes. Nervously, he sat on the couch in the lobby of the restaurant, waiting for Nancy and Ned to arrive. Inside, Callie, Joe, and Vanessa were sitting together at a table in the corner overlooking the water, a table that Frank had worked hard to reserve in advance. Knowing how Bayport was famous for its lake views, he had wanted to reunite with Nancy and Ned, and have everyone become re-acquainted in the best way he saw possible. For some reason, it had become very important to him that everything go well tonight.

For some reason; for some reason. Glancing at his watch again, Frank sighed inwardly and adjusted his tie. Tonight was a night that was sure to be interesting, to say the least. On a professional level, he knew that this evening could lead to a break in the case of the men who had wreaked havoc on Vanessa and Callie's mindsets. There was no limit to what he would go through to ease their minds, and to make sure that the culprits would soon be brought to justice.

It was not the professional level, though, that really concerned him. Tonight he would see Nancy again for the first time in just over four years. Although they kept in touch on a fairly regular basis, they hadn't been able to get together – purposefully, he sometimes wondered? – in a long time. He was both anxious and excited to see her again.

"Frank?"

He had been so deep in thought he almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his brother's voice behind him.

Whirling around, he felt his heart start to beat again. "Since when do you go sneaking up on people like that?" he snapped, immediately disliking the tone of his voice when he heard it. Instantly, he struggled to regain composure. "Sorry. It's just that I wasn't expecting you."

"Uh-huh," Joe replied, dryly. "It's not like you're at a restaurant with me or anything." He took a seat next to his brother.

Feeling the color rise to his cheeks, he scrambled for a reply. "Uh…how are Vanessa and Callie?" he asked.

"Oh, they're fine." Joe eyed his brother suspiciously. Joe knew Frank better than Frank knew himself sometimes, and this was one of those moments. He continued. "Which, big brother, is more than I can say about you at the moment. Are you okay?"

Defensive, but trying to give a calm facade, he answered, "Yeah, sure. I mean, why wouldn't I be? They're just late, that's all."

Joe shook his head and decided to confront Frank directly. There wasn't a lot he could say, but he could let his brother know that he was being obvious and that he'd be watching him.

"Frank?"

"Yeah?" Frank met his brother's eyes, and adjusted his tie again.

"Quit it."

Frank stopped, then let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous, I guess. I haven't seen Nancy…and Ned," he quickly added, "in a long time. And it's an important case and all."

Joe held up a hand before speaking again. "Listen, big brother. I'm not going to say anything because there's nothing for me to say now, right?" He met his brother's eyes head on.

"I don't know what you're..." Frank began, but when he saw that Joe was about to cut through his excuse with a knife, he stopped and said "Right," snapping his jaw shut.

"Listen," Joe began, more gently this time. "You know you don't need to explain yourself to me, but you seriously have to calm down. They're old friends, right? Specifically, I'm referring to Nancy," he added, pointedly. "So what's the big deal? It'll be nice to see her, get her help, and have a nice evening." Joe chose his next words carefully, knowing he was walking a fine line. "Your fiancée is waiting inside for you, and I am more than sure that she'd like the pleasure of your company."

That seemed to snap Frank back to reality. He found himself looking at Joe, and a sheepish grin appeared on his face. Joe had grown up so much. At times, like this one, Frank even felt like he was the younger brother. Anytime there was any issue at all to do with girls, there was a strange role reversal – there had always been. Just as Frank was about to comment on Joe's insight and maturity, he heard his brother quip, "Did you see our waitress? She was pretty hot."

Frank choked.

"You all right? What's so funny?" Joe asked.

Frank chuckled. "Nothing. I was about to say something – but I just took it back."

"Huh?"

"Never mind," Frank said with a smile, and patted Joe on the back. He felt a lot better and more in control now that the subject had changed, and he was squarely back in the big brother position.

"You're right, you know," Frank went on.

"I'm always right," Joe responded with a smile. "About what specifically, though?"

"About the fact that I have my fiancée inside right now, and I should be spending some time with her," Frank answered, choosing to ignore Joe's comment.

Just as they got up to go back to the table, they both heard a familiar voice. "Hey you two! Leaving so soon?"

Joe was the first to turn around, and, despite everything, he found himself smiling. "Nancy Drew!" he exclaimed, lifting her off the floor in a big bear hug. "Long time no see!"

Pulling back, Nancy smiled widely. "Hey, Joe. It's good to see you. You look good."

"So do you," Joe replied, sincerely. Nancy looked more than good, actually. At a bit over 5'8", her blue-green eyes were set off by a green wrap dress that also complimented her strawberry blonde hair. Although she'd always been attractive, she seemed even more lovely now. Something was different about her, but he couldn't quite place it. The only thing that he knew for sure was that, beneath her stunning good looks, lay a cool, organized and collected mind. Overall, she was a person who had seen as much excitement in her life as he had.

"And you remember Ned?" she went on, holding onto his hand tightly.

"Of course," Joe responded, reaching out to shake Ned's hand. Ned stood about Joe's height, with dark hair and dark eyes, similar in coloring to his brother. But even Ned looked a bit different. His hair was streaked blonde by the sun, and he smiled happily, open and warm.

"How are you, Joe?" he asked.

As the two made small talk, Nancy turned to Frank, ignoring the racing in her own heart which she had expected, but hoped not to feel. Frank stood before her, more handsome than ever, and she was unsure of what to say after their initial greeting.

Then, though, something strange happened. As she heard Ned's laughter presumably at one of Joe's quips, she felt herself relax, and her face suddenly didn't seem as beet-red as it had felt only a moment before. Ned – her Ned – was here with her, and that was really all that mattered. Seeing her calm a bit must have had a similar effect on Frank, because, in an instant, that one illusory moment of awkwardness had disappeared. Had it been there at all? Had she made it up? Looking at Frank's sincere, bright smile, she honestly couldn't decide.

She only knew one thing – it was nice to see him again.

As Joe lead the procession into the dining room, still talking to Ned, Nancy finally was able to focus on what Frank was saying. As they all were introduced, Nancy watched Frank wrap an arm securely around a beautiful blonde girl. It took Nancy an instant to recognize her.

"And my fiancée, Callie?" she heard him say.

Callie greeted her warmly, extending her hand. "Pleased to meet you – again." She laughed. "Wow, it's been a lot of years."

"It has," Nancy agreed. She had only met Callie once- briefly – but she remembered her as quiet. And, although Nancy remembered her as pretty, she didn't really stand out. But she did stand out now. She really was lovely.

_Stop checking her out! _ Nancy scolded herself mentally. Taking a step back to assess the situation, as she always did, she laughed inwardly and finally let herself relax and enjoy the evening. Joe was cracking everyone up with some story of a college fraternity party. Vanessa, whom she'd just met, was listening with a look on her face somewhere between mortification and adoration. Right away, Nancy knew that she'd like her. Ned was laughing, taking a moment to wink at Nancy and to squeeze her hand, and she felt herself assured once again. Callie was teasing Joe about the veracity of his tale, while Frank was looking at Callie with…love? Yeah, love.

And she knew things were as they should be – for the moment, anyway.

As the evening was coming to a close, Frank, Joe and Nancy made plans to meet at the hotel where she was staying with Ned to "discuss the case." Instinctively, Nancy knew that Frank and Joe were going out of their way to NOT mention the case. She couldn't blame them. What had happened to that poor girl...and to Vanessa's friend...and to Callie and Vanessa, for Pete's sake, sounded awful, and, if she were in the reverse position, she didn't know if she would have liked to have a terrific evening ruined by those memories.

As they were finishing dessert, Vanessa's cell phone went off. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Sorry. I always hate it when phones go off during dinner. Sorry," she said again, glancing down into her purse to check the number.

"Is that your other boyfriend?" Joe teased her.

"Which one?" Vanessa replied with a straight face, getting a chorus of laughter all around.

Joe shrugged and smiled, knowing he'd been outshined by Vanessa. He kind of liked it.

"Actually, it's my mom," Vanessa apologized. "Would you all excuse me for a moment?"

She got up quickly and left the room to take the call.

Throughout dinner, Nancy found herself feeling more and more like normal. Frank really was a dear friend to her, and he really did look happy. She also found herself inexplicably drawn to Callie as well. She was smart, funny, and considerate – and very warm. _You did well, Frank_, she mused to herself. Yes, she still thought Frank was handsome. Yes, he still made her heart beat faster. Yes, she was still – maybe a little bit – in serious "like" with him. She couldn't bear to even think the other word, not with Ned there, and knowing that both she and Frank were off the market.

And happy to be off the market, she reminded herself.

It was the end of a perfect evening.

Almost.

Until Vanessa came into the room with a look of utter horror on her now pale face.

Joe stood up at once and rushed over to her, helping her to sit down at the table.

"Van?! What is it? What's wrong?"

Shaking her head for a moment to collect herself, she managed to choke out, "Mandy."

"What?" Joe asked.

"Mandy," she repeated, referring to their friend who had been present at the time of the assault.

"The girl who's missing," Frank interrupted, trying to get her to speak.

"No," Vanessa said, quietly, a haunted look on her face. "The one who's beaten…and raped…" She paused, managing a shaky breath before she continued, "and who's now – dead."

In the opposite corner of the dining room, a man with light blue eyes smiled. One down; three to go. It had begun….


	5. Chapter 5

_A/ N: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. This is my first story posted on this site, and I really appreciate your feedback. As I said, the story is done so I will be updating very regularly. Thanks again!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 5

The next day, as Frank and Joe drove to the hotel to meet up with Nancy, the car ride was filled with silence. They had made sure that Callie, Vanessa, and Charlotte were each looked after in a public place. Charlotte and Vanessa were at work, and Callie, who had taken the week off to work on wedding details, was spending the day with Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, who had insisted on taking her out to "help with the wedding planning." Everyone knew the real reason for their outing, but they all played along, hoping that even a small distraction from the week's events would be good for everyone.

As they traveled along, Joe stared out the passenger window, lost in thought. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to control his emotions. Even though that was a task he had gotten much better at with time, he still always returned to gut instinct—emotion—to carry him through. The problem was that right now there was no instinct for him to go to; no lead to follow. Even though he'd had discussions with the police department and his father, right now all paths led to a dead end. So, he was forced to channel all of his fear and rage into deep breaths, not having a clear path to concentrate on.

Over and over in his mind he kept seeing Vanessa's terrified face. It was an image that was now beginning to haunt him. It was one thing for him to reassure her that everything would be okay when she was just a witness to the crime. It was quite another to keep up the bravado when a friend of hers, who was also a witness, was now dead. He wasn't stupid; neither was Vanessa. Clearly, the girls, all three, were now targets of this madman—and the thought so enraged and scared him that he was a bit of a loss for what to do.

In his lifetime, he'd seen way too much violence. He'd learned a long time ago to distance himself from the actual people involved and to work on helping them through concentrating on the circumstances. The detachment was still hard sometimes. But he knew he had to be detached in order to function and to help those who needed him, much like a doctor or police officer had to. Every once in a while, though, there were cases that hit way too close to home. Iola's death had been the first case of such a nature; and its consequences had been far –reaching. The fact that he and his brother could inadvertently endanger friends, family, loved ones—simply because of the nature of their profession-- was the one area he knew he'd never be all right with. He managed to carry on the only way he knew how when someone he knew was involved; he was honest.

_But it's hard to be honest with the woman you love when you're trying to comfort her,_ he thought, miserably.

The night before, he had insisted on calling Chief Collig and asking for police protection outside of the apartment that he shared with Vanessa. He had stayed up with her all night, just holding her, trying to find the right words to offer her some reprieve from her fears.

_Where's the reprieve for MY fears? _He swallowed, hard. He had lost Iola. He would NOT lose Vanessa.

Glancing out the corner of his eye at Frank, Joe grew even more concerned. Frank was handling all of this with a quiet sort of intensity that bordered on eerie. He was, as Joe often thought of it, "in the zone." Frank's mind was so thorough and methodical that Joe knew he was playing and re-playing every last detail of the crimes, and would do so again with Nancy, who seemed to function in a similar manner. Frank analyzed everything from every conceivable angle. He actually forced himself to see nothing but logic and facts, and THAT was why he was such a good detective.

_It's also why he's almost gotten killed any number of times,_ Joe added to himself. It always made Joe extremely uncomfortable how Frank could block out instinct, overlook emotion, and see people as parts of a puzzle, and not… people. That's not to say that Frank was cold—he wasn't—but he had an uncanny ability to intellectualize everything. Deep down, Joe understood that that was Frank's coping mechanism. "Stay strong; never let them see you sweat," would probably be a good motto for Frank. It had served him well as a big brother, a friend, a boyfriend. But Joe wasn't so sure it was mentally healthy.

Letting out a sigh, he hoped his brother would be all right. Frank's over-protective nature had kicked in, and he was trying to deal with this case, and ensuring Callie's safety, in the only way he knew how—to think it through. But Frank was lacking one thing Joe had-- and that was deep-rooted pain that drove him, motivated him, forced him to succeed. Iola's death had been its source; and, although Joe prayed to God that Frank would never have to go through such a tremendous blow and loss, Iola's death had really saved his own life many times.

Instinct versus intellect; logic versus emotion. Whatever it was, it made them a strong team. And the stakes were never higher to succeed.

After what seemed like a long car ride, the Hardys arrived at the Bayport Hotel. Still in silence, they made their way to the elevator and pressed the button for Nancy's floor. Having arrived there, they walked down the hallway and knocked on Nancy's door. Maybe they could come up with a plan together, after all.

As soon as she heard the knock on the door, Nancy took a deep breath. She couldn't help but to remind herself that there were two kinds of cases that really affected her. One was violence against children. The other was violence against women. Having been put into so many precarious situations in her own time, Nancy well knew that she was lucky that she was alive; and that, despite numerous injuries, she had not endured any long-term suffering. However, she had one advantage over the Hardys. She was a woman, and people often under-estimated what women could accomplish. It never ceased to amaze her how many times she'd had to testify in court and look into the faces of the people, many of whom were men, whom she'd been instrumental in having helped to put behind bars. She hoped that she'd have the same satisfaction in this case.

As soon as she opened the door, Nancy sucked in her breath quietly. Frank and Joe looked so distressed. It was a look she'd seen often on Ned's face when she had been in danger. It was also why she had sent Ned to go and check in on Vanessa and Charlotte at work—to focus his attention on something other than her involvement in this case

Ushering them in, she motioned for them to have a seat.

"Okay, guys," she started. "What do we know?" She had a small tablet in her hands, and was ready to begin taking notes.

She was surprised when it was Joe, not Frank, who began to speak. "Not much," he admitted, running a hand through his blonde hair and sighing in frustration. "That's the problem."

"Well, we have to know SOMETHING," she insisted.

Fighting impatience, Joe replied, "Of course we know some things, Nan. I just have a feeling that they're not that important to finding our guy."

"Well, start from the beginning," Nancy responded patiently. "You never know what small, seemingly insignificant detail…"

"...might be overlooked." Frank completed her sentence, and exchanged a small smile with her. Once again, they were on the same path of thinking, virtually able to complete each other's sentences. It felt good, and gave Frank some hope.

Joe saw the exchange and didn't like it. It wasn't that he disagreed about what they were saying, it was just that he HAD thought about the angles as well. Somehow, even though he honestly didn't think she meant to, Nancy seemed to come between the brothers and made team Hardy team Nancy and Frank, with Joe in the background for good measure. Still, trying to be mature about it, he continued the conversation.

"Look," he began. "This is what we know. Last month- almost 5 weeks ago now, a woman named Leslie Smith was badly beaten, raped, and murdered." Joe found himself rushing through the descriptions in a matter –of-fact manner, because he couldn't fathom the horror of each one. "She was 18 years old, about 5'4", blonde hair, green eyes. She left work around 9:00 p.m.—everything was seemingly normal. By the time Vanessa and the girls had heard the screaming and saw the attacker, it was about 11:00."

"So she was alive—tortured really, for about two hours," Nancy added, quietly.

"Yeah." Joe couldn't really think of anything else to add; that comment by Nancy seemed to say it all.

"Had there been any other reported violence in Bayport prior to that incidence?" Nancy queried.

"None," Joe answered.

"Nancy is looking for an established pattern," Frank chimed in, thoughtfully.

Joe sighed. "I KNOW what's she's looking for, Frank." He hated being treated, even unintentionally, like a kid." But we've been through this. The attack seems to be the first one."

"Nothing in any surrounding towns?" Nancy suggested.

"Not that we know of," Frank replied.

"Okay," Nancy replied, deep in thought. She continued. "So let's assume this was the first attack. The girls said there were THREE attackers? But only one stopped to threaten them. The only thing they remember is that he seemed to be of medium height with blue eyes. Why would he stop? Why would he threaten them? Why was it only one of the men who stopped?"

"I don't know," Frank replied, honestly.

"Was there any DNA evidence?" she asked.

Noting the look between the brothers, Nancy stopped cold. "Okay, you two. What aren't you telling me?" Noting their silence, she placed her notebook on the chair by her said. "Look," she began, "I'm here to help you. You asked ME for assistance. You have to be honest. I'm a big girl. Just tell me."

Frank swallowed, hating to even talk about this. "Okay, Nan. There WAS DNA. But there doesn't initially appear to be a match to anyone in the system. It…uh…" Finally, he came out with it. "It looks like a gang rape."

"Oh," Nancy responded, her face slightly pale. "I take it you haven't told the girls this?"

"No," Frank and Joe responded simultaneously.

"And we're not planning on it, either," Joe went on. "They're scared enough."

"You agree with that logic?" Nancy asked, directing the question pointedly to Frank.

"I do," he replied, equally directly. "I take it you disagree?"

Nancy shrugged. "That's your call," she replied. "But since you asked—yes, I disagree. I'd want to know what I was up against. Just in case."

Frank appeared to think it over, but Joe's face hardened. "There won't be a 'just in case', Nan, okay?" he responded.

"Okay," Nancy replied. Then, noting his expression, she added, "Of course there won't be."

For the next two hours, Nancy, Frank and Joe discussed details of the case. The knew that they at least had DNA evidence, and that it was still being traced through Forensics, a subject with which Frank had a great deal of familiarity. They also knew that the second girl, Mandy, had suffered a similar fate to the first; only this time, the police suspected there was only one perpetrator, and he had worn protection, thus eradicating DNA evidence.

"Is this solely a case of revenge?" Nancy finally asked. "Why would someone, or some ones, risk getting caught to get rid of the witnesses? And why go to all the... trouble..." She sought a better word, but did not find one, and went on, "Instead of just killing them?"

"Nancy!" Joe barked, defensive.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Nancy retorted, "But it's true. And you, and your brother, just might be too close to this case to ask the obvious questions. I'm just trying to help!"

"I know," he conceded.

Just as Frank was about to chime in, there was a knock at the door, and then it opened. Ned stood there, pale, unsure of how to begin.

"What's wrong?" Nancy asked as she immediately stood up. Frank and Joe turned to him.

"I don't know how to say this," he began.

Joe hopped out of his seat. "What?! Ned, what's the matter?" he asked, furiously. Somehow, he knew Ned was involved in the case, and the news wasn't good.

"I'm so sorry," he said, close to tears.

Looking straight into Joe's eyes, he stammered, "There's been another attack…."


	6. Chapter 6

"Fire and Ice"

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 6

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. Joe stared straight into Ned's eyes, not quite sure that he'd heard him accurately.

Sensing immediately what Joe was thinking, Ned took control of himself and blurted the one thing that he was sure Joe needed to hear. "It's not Vanessa, Joe," he stammered. Then, noticing Frank's stricken face, he added, "And it's not Callie, either."

"Oh my God—Charlotte…" Joe managed to stammer as Ned headed immediately for Nancy and took her hand.

Nancy turned to him. "Wh... what happened?" she managed.

With a sigh, Ned squeezed Nancy's hand and sat down on the bed next to her. Taking a deep breath, he began. "You know how I was supposed to keep an eye on Vanessa and Charlotte at their job today?"

"You were WHAT?" Joe interjected, incredulous. If there was anyone who was going to protect Vanessa, it was going to be him, not Ned.

"Joe," Nancy cut him off. "Listen. I knew I was meeting you and Frank here today to go over the details of the case. I also knew that Callie was going to be with your parents. The only logical thing that Ned could do, other than talk over the case with us, was to keep an eye on Vanessa and Charlotte at their job."

"She's right, Joe," Frank added, gaining back some of his color. "Ned was just trying to help."

"Well, he didn't so such a good job, apparently," Joe shot back. He hated being lectured by Frank, but it was ten times worse with Nancy being around. They always seemed to know exactly what to say to make it sound like they were ganging up on him.

Seeing Nancy's horrified expression, however, and the look of pure shock on Ned and Frank's faces, left him immediately regretting his outburst.

"I'm sorry," he said, quickly. With a deep sigh, he added, " I know you were trying to help, Ned… I'm just upset. Is Vanessa okay? What on earth happened?

"You know, Joe," Ned responded, evenly, meeting his eyes. "If this were another place and time, I would be more than happy to discuss your 'attitude' with you outside." If there was one thing Ned couldn't stand, it was a hothead.

Seeing Joe about to take Ned up on his offer, Frank finally stood up.

"Guys, knock it off," he said in exasperation. "We need to know what happened, and we need to find out now. There's a possibility that whoever did this is right around here now, and we need to get on his trail."

"Frank's right," Nancy agreed.

"Do you have a tape recorder that says that?" Joe asked sarcastically.

Frustration and anger were beginning to build up in him hiding the one emotion he couldn't let get the better of him—fear. Charlotte had always been a nice girl, and he and Vanessa had gone out with her and her boyfriend several times. It was horrific what had happened, but the thought that it could have been Vanessa almost paralyzed him. He knew he was acting out, but he almost couldn't help himself.

"Whatever, Joe," Nancy managed, affronted.

Expecting Frank to jump right in and defend Nancy against his comment, Joe almost couldn't believe his ears when Frank cut in.

"Stop it!" his brother exclaimed. "Nancy, Ned," he said, turning to them. "Look, Joe was out of line, but he's upset—we all are. The first thing he thought was that something had happened to Vanessa, so cut him a break, okay? And Joe," he continued, turning to him, "I think you need to understand that Nancy and Ned are here to help, and that Ned knows what happened, so can we all agree to just get on with it already?" He let out a shaky breath. They couldn't afford to be at each other's throats right now. Besides, he knew exactly what Joe had felt only an instant before when Ned had come through the door. And his thought had been the same-- only it concerned Callie. If there was something to be done, they needed to do it.

"Okay," Joe mumbled.

"Agreed," Nancy added. Then, turning to Ned, she said, "Go on."

Ned took a deep breath before continuing his story. He was still shaken up by the events of the morning, and was caught between overwhelming sadness and a need to drag Nancy out of there as quickly as possible. The thought that she could in any way be harmed by a case that she hadn't even wanted in the first place was simply not an acceptable option.

"Like I was saying," he started again. "I saw Vanessa arrive at work today, and I saw Charlotte arrive as well. She had been dropped off by some guy, probably her boyfriend or husband. Things were okay. No one left the building in the morning, and I didn't see any "unusual" suspects lurking or anything. I watched the office all day, and I kept an eye on their cars. No one left. About 1:00, I saw a police car pull in. I didn't think anything of it until I saw another. Then another." Ned paused, and then finally admitted, "I had no idea what happened, until I finally went in to see for myself. I was allowed to the fifth floor, where Vanessa works. That's where I got the first part of the story."

"You spoke with Vanessa?" Joe prompted.

"Yeah," Ned went on. "She was pretty upset. Apparently, Charlotte had received a phone call a few hours earlier. She had said that she had to go down to get a special delivery from her boyfriend. It was their anniversary, I think. Anyway, she did go downstairs. She never came back up." Ned looked directly at Joe. "When she didn't return after a while, Vanessa got a bad feeling. She called the police. She did try to get you," he added, nodding in Joe's direction," but you didn't answer. Anyway, the police did come. And… only because I knew you guys, I was able to find out that Charlotte had been found. The police had put out an APB on her."

Joe, incredulous, looked down at his cell phone. Cursing under his breath, he noted that Ned had been right. Vanessa HAD tried to call him—several times. His phone had gone right to voicemail, the button to ring inadvertently shut off.

"That means that someone took the time to get personal information on Charlotte," Nancy hypothesized. "Someone is going out of his way to make sure that everyone knows this is a case of revenge. We need to check up on that angle."

Joe had to admit that Nancy did play it cool under pressure.

"It also means that someone might have seen him. He obviously was bold enough to drive right into the building. There may be surveillance cameras that could check on the parking garage, if there are tapes available," Frank added, forcing himself to try and remain calm and analytical.

"Someone is gathering information about… the girls," Nancy added again. She tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible, and she sensed that Frank was doing the same. It was an unarticulated, but understood idea between them, now, that "the girls" was the expression that they would use in this case. To say "Vanessa" or "Callie" made it so intensely personal that all neutrality would be null and void in this case, and all clear thinking obscured.

Nodding solemnly, forcing himself to suppress his own emotions, Frank agreed, admitting that, "Yeah. And they're in serious danger now."

"We have to protect them," Joe declared, standing up.

"We need to get to the police station—pronto," Frank asserted.

"Guys…There's one more thing," Ned added. Sensing the deep sadness in his eyes, Joe stopped short of heading for the door and calling Vanessa, and looked back at Ned.

Ned knew what he was about to say should be positive, but it was not. Not knowing how to say it, he blurted out….

"She's alive…."


	7. Chapter 7

F_or the people who have reviewed, thank you very much-- I appreciate it! As I indicated, I have updated every day or so. I will continue to post here as long as there is some indication that people are reading the story; thus far, I don't really know based on the lack of reviews. _

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 7

Once they arrived at the hospital where Charlotte had been taken, they found themselves in the midst of a great deal of activity. Members of the press were swarming around the hospital looking for details of the emerging story, as fear was beginning to get widespread throughout Bayport and the surrounding areas. Chief Collig and the rest of the police staff were doing their best to obtain as much information as possible, while, at the same time, trying to protect the identity of Charlotte and the path the killer was taking towards his next victims.

Over the next few hours, everyone divided focuses, trying to attack the case from different angles, hoping for some sort of solution.

While Joe headed off to try to contact Vanessa, and Ned was being questioned by the police about what he had seen, Nancy and Frank headed over to the hospital cafeteria to discuss what they knew.

For a few moments, they sat together in silence, and then Frank turned to Nancy and inquired, "Nan?" He looked at her with concern in his dark eyes.

Nancy looked over at him, noting the expression on his face. "Hmmmmm?"

"Are you okay? I mean, really okay?" He asked her, seriously. "The details of this case are… well, they're pretty horrifying, and I'd understand if you wanted out."

Nancy gave a small smile. "Why? Because I'm a girl?"

Frank blushed. Clearing his throat, he admitted, "Actually, yeah. I mean, all things considered, I don't know if…"

"Frank, stop," Nancy interrupted, holding up her hand. "I'd expect better from you. YES, I'm a girl. YES, this case deals with the brutal rape and murder of at least two girls, and at least the rape of one other one. YES, it's unimaginable. But NO—I don't want out. Even if I am 'just a girl.'" Noting Frank's hesitancy, she added, "But thanks for caring anyway."

"You know I care about you," Frank responded, almost automatically. For an instant their eyes locked before Frank broke the awkward silence.

"Anyway…" he began, hoping to remain focused. "So what do you think is the next step?"

Nancy cleared her head. Why oh why was it always so hard to concentrate on a case, on anything, when Frank Hardy was in her midst? She was fine when there were others around. As a matter of fact, they appeared to work in unison, seemingly parts of one machine. But when they were alone, some dynamic changed. And she didn't know if she liked it, if she wanted it, or if she was afraid of it. In any case, it was something she was trying consciously to avoid.

Using logic was her weapon in time like this. Unfortunately, it was also Frank's. Still, it was worth a try.

"Okay," she began, turning so Frank didn't see the color creep into her face. "Charlotte was kidnapped from her place of work. The police are already looking into surveillance cameras. She was taken away—apparently, she didn't remember how long it had been while she was in the van before the… attack."

"But, according to the doctors, she reported only one attacker," Frank added.

"Just like in the second attack," Nancy agreed. "And that means that, for whatever reason, this guy seems to be working alone now, independent of the other two men whom the girls saw flee the scene."

"And since there was only one, and no one heard anything, he must have either been pretty strong…" Frank started.

"…Or he used chloroform or some other agent to knock her out," Nancy finished. There they went again—finishing each other's thoughts and sentences.

Frank shook his head sadly. "She's in pretty awful shape, though," he went on. "Apparently, she escaped after the attack and was able to make it to the side of the road before someone found her to get help. The few statements she made were garbled, but she did say something about "average height and weight" and, most importantly…"

"Ice blue eyes," Nancy finished again.

After a few moments, Frank said, softly, "That's the one thing that Callie kept saying to me, and Vanessa has also mentioned. Those eyes—he looked at them with this fiery glare, yet his eyes were ice cold." He looked down at his hands, and he realized that he was tapping his fingers nervously. He stopped. Looking at Nancy, he stated, "I need to get this guy, Nan. I can't let anything happen…" He choked back the rest of his sentence, but the words lingered, unsaid, in the air. _To Callie._

Instinctively, Nancy covered his hand with hers. "It's okay," she said gently. "I know."

Looking down, Frank felt her hand on his and reluctantly smiled. "Thanks," he said. Then, having no idea where it came from, he felt the next words leave his lips, almost as though he had no control of them. "Ned's a lucky man. I don't know how he does it."

Nancy felt the heat rise in her face again. With a struggle, she met Frank's eyes. "I guess," she replied softly, "he does what Callie does. He supports me. He encourages me. He wants more than anything to protect me. I think I'm pretty lucky." Nancy's heart was beating wildly in her chest, but it was the strangest sensation. She was anxious being with Frank but, at the same time, she knew what she had told him was true. She really was lucky.

"Yeah," Frank agreed slowly. "I know what you mean."

"You always do," Nancy conceded.

There was a moment of intense stillness, and then, slowly, they leaned in towards each other….

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They did not see Callie or Ned, both of whom had arrived at about the same time to speak to them.

Ned saw it first. Rather, he thought he saw exactly what he didn't want to see, but his attention was diverted by Callie Shaw, whom he almost bumped into, with the look of pure shock on her face. Whirling around, he watched her take off faster than he thought humanly possible. Taking a deep breath, he ignored Nancy and took off after Callie. It was easier to focus on her now than his own torrent of emotions.

After several flights of stairs, and many a hallway, he finally caught up to her. Grabbing her by the arm, he huffed, "You ought to be in a marathon."

She whipped around to face him, and her expression froze him. She looked absolutely humiliated, horrified, and sick to her stomach at the same time. She was simultaneously fighting back tears and letting some slip through. _She's shocked, _he understood instantly. Feeling her shaking, he helped her over to a chair in the corner of the lobby.

As soon as she was sitting, rubbing her forehead with a trembling hand, Ned ran over and got her a cup of water. "Have this," he said, gently. "You'll feel better."

Callie looked up and choked out her words. "I will NOT feel better!" she challenged. "What… the hell.. was that all about?!" She could barely catch her breath.

"You don't have to be nasty!" Ned snapped back. "This isn't my idea of a perfect scenario, either!"

Callie silenced herself and, after a few minutes, she met Ned's eyes. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. She had to keep her words short, for she didn't trust her own voice not to falter.

"Me, too," Ned responded sadly. "I was praying this wouldn't happen."

Callie was dumbfounded. "Wh.. what do you mean?" she stammered.

Ned bit his lip, and then replied, "You didn't know?"

"Know WHAT?" Callie half shouted, half choked out.

"About Nancy and Frank?" Ned hated to say this, but he couldn't believe that Callie didn't have any clue. Looking at her, though, he realized immediately that she had no idea what he was talking about.

She looked so heartbroken, much like he felt, that he found it hard to go on. He'd come this far, though—he might as well finish.

"Are you okay to listen?" he asked, genuinely concerned. She was trembling badly, and had the classic "deer in the headlight" look of someone who honestly had had her world turned upside down in a matter of moments.

Callie nodded. _Please God, please God_ she heard her inner voice say over and over again. She couldn't believe what she'd just seen—or almost seen. And if Frank hadn't kissed Nancy, the look on his face was one she had been positive had only been reserved for her. She couldn't believe it. Her Frank. Her boyfriend, fiancé, best friend, soul mate… had betrayed her? It didn't seem possible. The moment had a sort of dentist chair unreality to it.

She had been devastated to learn about Charlotte, and she had been terrified about what it meant for both her and Vanessa. Upset, she had asked Mr. Hardy to drop her off at the hospital since he was headed there to speak to Collig. She needed to see Frank, her rock—the one steady and reliable thing in her life for close to a decade. If there was one thing she had never doubted, it was Frank's love… and loyalty. What was real anymore?

She forced herself to focus on Ned. His eyes were pained, but kind. _He must be feeling the same thing,_ she thought, miserably. What does he know?

"Callie," Ned said quietly to her. "I've been with Nancy for just about as long as you have been with Frank. I love her—very much." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to relay the facts, not choke on his emotions. "I trust her," he continued, "In every facet of our lives. Except…" He paused for a moment before continuing, "…Except when it comes to Frank."

"I thought they were just friends," Callie whispered, unbelieving.

"They… well, they ARE friends, Callie," Ned said with a sigh. "And sometimes, through the years, I believe that to be the case. I've been with Nan and Frank and Joe when they've been on cases. Most of the time, things are great. Frank talks about you—a lot, and Nancy and I are always together."

"So?" Callie asked, trying to hear through the heartbeats that seemed to make their way to her head.

"So," Ned went on, "There are other times when—I don't know. They're like two sides of the same coin. They think alike, they seem to always be in sync. And I just know that there have been times when they've been more than friends…" Ned had to stop. This was getting too painful.

"Like what, more than friends?" Callie thought she was going to throw up. She had never, ever even thought of cheating on Frank, and the thought that he would have cheated on her was unbearable.

Ned swallowed, hard. "Callie," he continued, "I honestly don't know. I have no proof. I don't know what they have or have not done. I just, in my gut, know that they have feelings for each other. Joe does too, you know," he added.

Shocked, Callie gasped. "Joe?" she managed. _My good friend? My almost brother in law?!_

Ned felt horrible. Not only was his own heart breaking, but he realized that Callie had been totally naïve about the whole… thing… and he wished he didn't have to talk to her about it—to be the one.

"Why?" she asked, tears pouring freely now down her face.

"I don't know," Ned replied. "It's such a weird situation. I love Nancy; I know she loves me. And Frank? I've heard him talk about you … and I know he's crazy about you. But there's this weird... lure.. between them. Do you know something?" Ned asked, gently. He'd come this far; he felt no need to hide anything else.

"What?" Callie asked, wiping her eyes.

"This trip for me… it was kind of a test. I was going to ask Nancy to marry me this Christmas season. Actually, right after your wedding to Frank. I needed to see, in coming here, that she had no reservations. That she was over feeling for Frank what she's never actually admitted to feeling. I... I don't know what to do," he finished.

"Me either," Callie responded, numbly.

"I feel like some sort of fire just died, you know? Like my world is over," Ned managed.

"Like ice," Callie mumbled.

They sat together, quietly, pondering how to repair their broken hearts.


	8. Chapter 8

_I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words! I know that it takes some time to comment on a story, and I greatly appreciate your feedback! :) I promise to update regularly (so far, it's been almost every day!). You have all been great, and you encourage me to continue writing. Thank you._

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 8

Joe walked into the hospital lobby, trying to avoid the swarms of media and the police that were milling about. He was trying to look for Callie, who had called Vanessa only a half -hour earlier to say that she was on her way. He was also trying to find Nancy, Ned, his dad, or, above all, Frank. There was so much confusion that he was aware that they all needed to get together and work through what they knew. At this point, the only certainty was that Callie and Vanessa would have police protection around them at all times. At least it was a good start.

"Earth to Joe," he heard a voice call out to him, and he smiled immediately as he looked at his pretty, tall, ash blonde girlfriend. At once, he tightened his arm around her waist and hugged her close.

"Sorry," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "I was just trying to figure out where everyone was and where to go from here."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'm just glad that you're here with me—now," she said shakily.

"Always," he replied softly, and dropped his arm from around her to reach for her hand, which he quickly squeezed tightly. "Nothing is going to happen, hon. I'm not going to leave."

Grateful, Vanessa squeezed his hand back.

Joe laced his fingers through hers as he took a look around. When he had finally contacted Vanessa, she had been an emotional mess, understandably. The fact that she was speaking with Charlotte right before the kidnapping and attack, the fact that she, herself, was horribly frightened of what that meant for her and Callie, was taking its toll. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and circles were just beginning to appear under her eyes from lack of sleep. Although she was always beautiful to him, he hated to see her under such stress.

Joe let out a small sigh as he continued to search the room for someone whom he knew. Still, his thoughts kept coming back to Vanessa, to this whole horrible and unimaginable scenario. This should be a joyous time in all of their lives. Joe had had a ball taking Frank and every one of their friends out to "PG 13" bachelor parties that were clean but fun. Well, _mostly_ clean—but always fun. His brother had been a sport about everything, and Callie had been cool with it, too. Secretly, she had confided in him that she thought it was pretty funny to put Frank in these mortifying predicaments and to imagine the look on his face. Since she trusted Frank so completely, she'd basically given Joe carte blanche to do what he wanted with and to Frank within, as she often said, "all laws of decency and sanity."

And they HAD had fun. It had been nice to spend so much time with his brother and their friends. From sporting events to nightclubs, from silly games to more risqué activities, he'd been totally surprised and pleased how much fun they'd all had. Besides, Frank would always smile and go along with things even in the most ridiculous situations, but he'd always call Callie at least once or twice to check in, on his own accord, and Callie had always laughed and told him to "have fun."

He hadn't felt too bad, either, because despite the good –natured ribbing he had given his brother, he, himself, often snuck away to call Vanessa. Truly, no one compared to her. Quite frankly, he was more than suspicious of Vanessa, who was the maid of honor and Callie's best friend, and her ideas for what she'd persuaded Callie to do. Vanessa was one of the few people whom he'd ever known who could be crazier than he was, and it was a fun, exciting ride—and one that he knew he was so fortunate to have found.

But now, so much had changed. Here it was, once again around the anniversary of Iola's death, and all of these terrible things had happened. Joe had never given much credence to superstition, but it was odd how things always seemed to be…off… around this time every year. All of their friends had silently acknowledged it as fact. Unlike so many of them, though, who believed to a certain extent that Iola was unhappy and not at peace, he really believed that Iola was his guardian angel, and that she protected him somehow from above. It had taken him a long time to accept the fact that she would have forgiven him and, though he couldn't really ever forgive himself totally for what had happened, he was now able to live with it. He believed that he honored Iola's life by acknowledging it every year and by living as she would have wanted him to—being himself.

Vanessa was his angel on earth, a blessing sent to him to keep him happy. Actually, to keep him alive, he often thought. To see her in any pain was unbearable, and he knew he would do anything to protect her. It was such a shame, though, that this wonderful time was so blighted. _Every silver lining has its cloud_, he thought, silently.

"Hey!" Vanessa interjected, interrupting his thoughts again. "I think that's Callie!" She pointed in the direction of several chairs at the far end of the lobby.

Looking closely, Joe saw that she was right. They made their way as quickly as possible over to the corner.

As soon as they reached Callie, Joe noticed immediately that something was wrong. So did Vanessa. Before Joe had a chance to think about it, though, he noted that Ned was sitting next to Callie on a nearby couch, and he was at least relieved that someone was watching her. _So much for constant police protection, _he noted, wryly.

Before either Joe or Vanessa could say or do anything, Ned stood up. He looked visibly upset, but the quickness with which he seemed to want to leave indicated that he wasn't ready to mention whatever was on his mind.

"As long as you're here," Ned started, speaking to Joe, "Do you mind if I leave for a few minutes? I need to get some air."

Noting his expression, Joe responded automatically, "No—not at all. Thanks for staying with Callie."

With a slight nod and a forced smile, he headed out the door.

"What was THAT all about?" Vanessa asked, sitting down next to Callie. Then, seeing how upset her friend looked, she reached over to Callie and gave her a hug. Assuming that Callie was as upset as she was over all of the attacks, and Charlotte's condition, Vanessa stayed by Callie's side. She was surprised, when Callie looked up, at the numb expression in her eyes.

"Cal? What's wrong?" she asked, before Joe could get a word in.

Callie took in a shaky breath. She felt totally drained. Under any other circumstance, the one place she would look for comfort would be in Frank's arms, but that, at the moment, was out of the question. Callie noticed right away how Joe and Vanessa were waiting for her to say something. But what could she say? She felt icicles in her stomach every time she tried to move. Normally, she would have time to sit and plan her words. Like Frank, and decidedly unlike Joe or Vanessa, she was very protective of her feelings, and tried very hard not to reveal too much. Right now, though, the last thing she had was time, and she simply didn't have the energy or the inclination to watch her phrasing.

She said the truth.

Rubbing Vanessa's arm in thanks, she looked at Joe. "I have to ask you something," she said, point blank.

"Uh, okay… go ahead," Joe responded. Something in Callie's directness and candor which lacked her almost perfect ability to 'ease her way' into a conversation, made him uneasy.

"Shall I go?" Vanessa asked, concerned.

"No," Callie replied. "I have nothing to hide from you."

Struck into silence by this new side of her best friend, Vanessa, like Joe, waited, afraid to push her. She looked so… lost.

"What do you know about Frank and Nancy?"

Taken aback, Joe hesitated. "Um… what do you mean?" In his gut, Joe got a sinking feeling. He knew that he was not going to like where this was going, and he didn't even need to ask why. Clearly, Callie already knew the answer she was expecting before he said anything. Deciding to watch his answers very carefully, he tried to ignore little voices in his head that were screaming out, "_What's going on? What did Frank do? Where IS Frank? I can't believe he's with Nancy at a time like this!"_

Callie didn't ease up. "Ned said that you know something. So tell me. What do you know?"

_I'm gonna kill my brother! _ He thought, silently.

"Cal," Joe said directly, "What are you asking me, exactly?"

Callie swallowed hard. "I… I want to know if Frank and Nancy have… a history." The words were painful to her own ears.

Joe winced. Callie obviously knew something, but he didn't know what, or why it was coming up now. He looked at Vanessa's shocked expression, and Callie's devastated one, and felt trapped. Still, he was walking a fine line, and he intended not to fall.

"Why do you ask?" he inquired.

"Joe, just answer the question. Please," Callie begged, and Joe saw she was trying not to cry. "As my friend, just... please."

"Cal, I… I mean… I don't know how to answer that." _Well, that was an honest start._

"Try," Vanessa interjected, angrily.

Oh, boy. _He really __was __going to kill his brother._

"Okay," Joe responded evenly after a few moments. He would tell the truth…as far as possible. Looking at Callie was difficult. He cared for her very much, and to hurt her was the last thing he'd want. "They've been friends for a long time," he stated.

"Joe!" Vanessa sighed in exasperation. "That's not what she means and you know it!"

"Van," he said, "I don't think that you should…"

"I should WHAT?!" she asked incredulously.

Sensing that the only way to survive this dual attack was to answer the questions quickly and directly, Joe gave in.

"Callie," he started. He placed his hand on hers, but she recoiled. Joe knew immediately that this was serious. "I'll tell you the truth. I don't know what you saw or think you saw, or heard or think you heard, but, yes... I do believe that Frank and Nancy have a sort of—affection—for each other."

"Define that," Callie replied, tersely. Her heart was beating wildly. "And why didn't you tell me?!"

At that moment, sensing her pain, Joe began to think of ways in which to get revenge upon his brother for putting him in this spot.

"Because," he answered, "I don't know how to define it. There's nothing he's ever admitted to. Certainly nothing has gone on in the last several years. I don't know HOW to define it. And why would I tell you and start unnecessary trouble? Frank loves YOU. You know that."

Callie shook her head and wiped her eyes. Joe felt horrible.

"Does he?" she whispered.

Suddenly, Joe felt extremely uncomfortable. He made it a point to never get in the middle of Frank's love life. Honestly, he'd never had to. His brother, and Callie, for that matter, were intensely private people. He felt like he was watching a scene that he didn't need to be a part of. And yet, despite it all... the fact that Frank had probably just done something stupid… the fact that he wanted to kill him… the fact that Frank had just made him hurt both his own girlfriend and Callie… he still felt some weird desire to defend him.

"Do you need me to tell you that, Cal?" he responded, meeting her eyes. "Because then there's a problem. You're going to marry my brother in four months, and if you need me to tell you how he feels, then maybe something's wrong."

Callie looked at him intensely. He had gotten her attention.

"Callie," he went on, more gently, "If you are going to marry my brother, and for well over a year this has been in the works, then you have to know that marriage is about more than love. It's about trust and loyalty... and hanging in there … even when you THINK there's a reason to bail. So what difference does a few months make? Are you ready to make that commitment today?"

She continued to take in his words.

"Look," he finished. "My big brother isn't perfect. I mean, he's pretty close to it—not that I would admit to saying that—but he's a good guy. Still, we all make mistakes. I don't feel comfortable telling you what to do, but I CAN tell you that, based on all the years that you've been together, it is my honest opinion—my instinct—that he truly, deeply loves you. Give him a chance, okay?"

Callie waited a few minutes.

Joe added, "And I do NOT need you or Vanessa over here worrying about anything other than staying safe. So please—PLEASE—let Frank and I protect you, okay? Iron out the other details later. You know," he added, with a forced grin, "Get the "for worse" stuff over with now. Think how happy your marriage will be."

Hesitating, Callie hugged Vanessa and then leaned over to kiss Joe on the cheek.

"I'm still upset," she began, "But I'll listen."

Relieved, Joe smiled.

"But BOY," she added, "Is he going to owe you big time for this!"

You're not kidding, Joe agreed silently.

They stood up to search for Frank and Nancy. Joe slipped his arms around both of their shoulders.

He'd avoided the lightning, but he knew that the storm was still to come.

Praying that, for once, his instinct would fail him, he hugged them both. "Let's go," he said.

Unbeknownst to them, icy blue eyes watched their every move.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to all who continue to review. I hope you enjoy the story! _

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 9

As soon as their lips were about to meet, something inside Frank stopped him from going forward. "Wait," he stammered, pulling back and sitting straight up in his chair. "Nan," he went on, his face crimson, "we… we can't do this. It's… not right."

Nancy pulled back as well, her own face almost as red as Frank's. Trying to control her breathing and clear her head, she avoided Frank's eyes. It seemed like years before he spoke again.

"Nancy?" His voice was gentle, kind. Something in his tone made her able, finally, to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I really am. Look at us," he said with a sigh, leaning back to stare momentarily at the ceiling. "We're acting like…" He searched for the right words.

Finally, Nancy was calmer. Frank had been so close that she could still feel the effects of her lips tingling with anticipation. At the same time, she felt enormous gratitude that Frank had stopped whatever was about to happen. He was right-- it was the totally wrong thing to do. She had a strong feeling that her momentary lapse of judgment could have led into a major maelstrom of emotions... if she had let it get that far. In a weird way, she was intensely grateful that she had remained loyal to Ned. Deep down, that's what she wanted anyway.

"Two high school crushes?" She managed to finish his sentence for him, as usual.

Frank sheepishly grinned as he looked back at her. Instinctively, she smiled back.

"Nan," he continued, in a low voice, and took her hand. This time, though, something was different. She could feel it; she knew he could, too. "Let's make a deal. Now is not the time to talk about this, but I think we both owe it to ourselves to get… whatever this is between us… out in the open. You are an absolutely amazing woman," he squeezed her hand before going on, "and, really, a great friend. I'm not going to deny that there's something here. I guess," he stammered, blushing a bit, "there always has been. But I do know one thing. I asked Callie to marry me, and I told her then, and I still mean it now, that she's the love of my life. I…I won't betray her."

Embarrassed, he stopped.

Nancy gave a little laugh. "I won't ask you to, Hardy," she replied, feeling her eyes still twinkle a bit when she looked at him. "I'm not exactly ready to throw in the towel, leave Ned, and run off to elope with you." Somehow, it was easier to joke about this than to make it more serious than it probably was.

Frank was taken aback. Looking at him, Nancy felt the smile remain on her face. One thing that had always made Frank such a great person was his sincerity. He was a funny mix of confidence, intelligence, and athleticism which made him "one of the boys," and a deep sensitivity and shyness that set him apart from them. He always tried to do the right thing, and she could tell that he was struggling now with what angle to take on this so as not to hurt her feelings and how not to mortify himself. She decided to see what approach he took.

"Look," he said, "that's good, because I hadn't yet bought your ring."

_Leave it to Frank to try and make me feel better at his own expense, _she thought.

"In all seriousness, though, Nance," he went on, "Let's make a deal that, before you leave, let's just talk about this, okay? Let's just get whatever it is out of our system so we can go on," he sought for the right words, and found them, "living honestly; knowing what we want. Besides," he added, to break the tension that was threatening to build again, "I'm a guy. I can't take this drama, even if I am in the middle of it."

Nancy burst out laughing. "Okay," she managed after the laugh had passed. "No more drama. Pinkie swear?" She held out her finger.

"This is so lame, Drew," he responded with a smile. "But pinkie swear anyway." They crossed fingers.

"And we WILL talk, before I leave. I agree. Now let's just get on with this case, okay?" she replied.

"Drama free!" they said in unison, before Nancy rolled her eyes and they began assessing the situation again.

ooooooooooooo

As they approached the cafeteria, Joe sensed the girls, Callie especially, tense up. Looking inside, he saw Frank and Nancy, exactly where Callie had said they would be. Still, he guided them ahead. Joe saw his brother looking over papers with Nancy and he couldn't believe how innocent it looked. They appeared to be buried in notes, both of them with an expression of utter concentration on their faces.

As soon as they entered the room, Frank and Nancy looked up simultaneously. Once again, Joe was amazed by how in sync they always were. As they approached the table, Frank stood up. He gave Vanessa and Joe a quick smile and nod, but stood up to greet Callie.

As Vanessa and Joe pulled out some chairs, Joe turned to Nancy, deciding to give Frank and Callie whatever time they needed to work things out. "So…" Vanessa began, "What did you find?"

After Nancy greeted her and asked how she was doing, she motioned for them both to look over her notes. Joe was proud of Vanessa for not saying anything to Nancy, and proud of Callie for quietly motioning Frank to follow her out of the room, where there wouldn't be a major scene. Maybe, just maybe, he'd have a few minutes of peace….

"What's the matter?" Frank asked Callie, immediately concerned with the look on her face. When they were outside in the hallway, he wrapped an arm around her and hugged her to him. He was shocked to feel her so tense. Was she hesitating? Why?

Callie walked away from him and looked out the window. He followed her and slipped his arms around her from behind. "Cal?" he repeated. "What's wrong? Tell me. I'm so glad to have you here," he murmured, softly, into her ear.

Callie turned around, having a difficult time phrasing her emotions. Everything was so overwhelming to her. Looking in his eyes, she saw nothing dishonest—only sincere concern, puzzlement, and care. She wanted to yell at him, or distrust him, or do... something. She knew, though, in that moment, that Frank was either a really good liar or nothing had happened, despite what she'd seen. She needed to talk to him, but she knew that this wasn't the time. Standing here, with just him, the events of the day and their subsequent fears and emotions seemed to sneak up on her at once. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gave into what had become almost an instinct.

She stepped into his arms and buried her face in his chest. As always, he knew what to do. He didn't ask her questions; he didn't try to tell her that everything would be all right. He just held her, tightly. For those few minutes they were together, Callie allowed, consciously, everything to slip from her mind. Finally, she eased out of his arms and looked up at him, noting his expression of deep concern.

"Thanks," she found herself saying. "I needed that."

Reaching for her, Frank hugged her tightly again before releasing her. He kept one arm firmly around her waist as he spoke to her.

"You never need to thank me. You know that," he said, looking into her dark brown eyes that mirrored his own. "Would you like to tell me what's wrong?" he prodded, gently.

Shaking her head slightly, she leaned against him. "Not now. But... " she looked up at him, "I would like to talk to you—soon."

Puzzled and concerned, Frank looked at his fiancée and felt an overwhelming need to protect her from whatever it was that was hurting her.

"Okay—sure," he responded, knowing that for some reason Callie needed this space. Then, a strange feeling came over him, almost like something 'clicked' in his mind, but he couldn't explain how or where it came from. "Cal?" he asked her.

"Yeah?" she said softly.

"I didn't do anything, did I?" _Where did THAT come from?_ He asked himself.

"Oh, Frank," she replied, hugging him around the waist. "I hope not."

Before Frank could even think of how to respond, he saw his father walk through the door, followed by Chief Collig.

"Frank," Collig replied. "I think we may have a break in the case. I'm going to ask you and your brother to come down to the station, and Ms. Drew."

"Dad?" Frank asked.

Fenton sighed, looking at his son and Callie. Of all times for this to happen… "Come on, Frank," Fenton said after leaning over to kiss Callie on the cheek.

"I don't want to leave Callie," Frank replied, "And Vanessa's inside, too."

"Of course not," Collig announced forcefully. Then, remembering all of the details of the case, and who the next probable victims were, he repeated, "I know. Of course not." Then he added, "There are two officers, John Daley and Tom Jacobs, who are on their way up now to remain with the girls. They'll escort them home… wherever they want to go. But right now, Frank, we need you at the station with your dad and brother. We have some very disturbing details that we need to go over with you."

He felt Callie squeeze his waist. "Go on," she said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Now go on. Help find this… thing… who did this to everyone. I can't shake this feeling that he's so… close by." She shivered.

At the corner of the crowded hallway, a very nondescript young man, overhearing the conversation, tried not to smile. "If only she knew…" he thought, and slid the glasses over his light blue eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on the story. From this point forward, I will be posting a chapter every two-three days (so Thursday will be the next one) as long as people continue to read it. Although I certainly don't write for the reviews (I just had a story I wanted to tell), the people who have commented make a difference to me and inspire me to want to continue to devise and write new stories. So-- thanks again!_

**"**Fire and Ice"-- Chapter 10

"How can you stand it?" Vanessa queried angrily, unable to stop herself from fuming. She and Callie were finally back at Vanessa's apartment, sitting in the living room. Outside, despite the August weather and the fact that two police officers were dutifully assigned to watch the girls from a distance, there remained an unmistakable chill in the air.

Sighing, Callie sat back on the sofa and raised her hands to her temples, rubbing them. She looked at Vanessa pleadingly, hoping that she'd take the hint and drop it, but Vanessa just continued on, building momentum as she went along.

"Cal! I mean, come on! What are you going to do? Will you talk to Frank as soon as he gets home? I think you should call him, now!"

Callie opened her mouth to respond, but shut it immediately as she noticed that Vanessa had no intention of actually having her answer these rhetorical, she now knew, questions. Resigned, Callie crossed her arms and let Vanessa go on, hoping only that she'd just about reached the end of her tirade. Unfortunately, after a few more moments of listening, Callie realized that there was no end in sight.

"You know, Cal, I know what Joe said to you. And I mean yes, he does make some sense. But even I can't believe that Frank didn't tell you about any of this! You must be furious! Never mind—I'm furious FOR you!" Vanessa raised her arms in exasperation to emphasize her point. "And—if this was Joe, and he did this to me, you can be sure that I'd--"

"That you'd WHAT?!" Callie finally interjected, looking visibly upset. "What, Vanessa?! I'm curious, " she went on, meeting her friend's eyes, "as to how exactly you'd handle this situation if everything was reversed and it was YOUR fiancé, and not mine, who apparently had some sort of history with someone else and you found out only months before the wedding. What if Joe was in love..." Callie practically choked on the word," With Iola?" _Where did that come from?! _The minute she sputtered her old friend's name, Callie knew she had crossed a line and immediately stopped.

Vanessa, shocked, stared at Callie for a moment, unsure of what to say, to do. Her breath caught.

"I… I don't know…" she managed. The idea was so foreign to her that she could barely comprehend it. At the same time, Callie had struck a nerve. She knew that Joe loved her deeply, but she also knew that he had been in love with Iola Morton in his past as well. Deep down, she had always feared that she could never live up to the memory Joe had of Iola, and, although Joe had never given her any reason to doubt the sincerity and the depth of the love that he had for her, a little voice within her had always doubted if she could replace Iola. Callie had inadvertently shaken her at the core with her words.

"I'm sorry," Callie responded almost immediately to the look of … fear?… in Vanessa's eyes. She reached out to her friend and took her hand. Slowly, Vanessa squeezed Callie's hand back.

Callie went on. "I really am sorry," she replied with a soft sigh. "Iola is gone. I guess… it's this time of year again, when she died, and I can't help but to think of her, especially since bad things always seem to happen around this time every year. And look—Mandy's… gone… and Charlotte is badly hurt…" Callie's eyes filled with tears as she struggled to find the words to convey her emotions. "And we're the obvious target of another attack. Plus, Frank's being… I don't know." Despite everything, Callie found she couldn't say anything bad about Frank. It hurt her too deeply to think he could have betrayed her. She simply didn't know WHAT to think anymore.

Vanessa, seeing Callie's pain, quickly pushed her own fears to the back of her mind, and blurted out, "I'd punch him!"

"Huh?!" Callie was taken aback, having no idea what Vanessa was talking about.

Vanessa managed a small smile. "You asked what I'd do if I found out that Joe was in love with someone else. You know what I'd do? I'd punch him—hard—and use all my Tae Bo moves until he was sorry he messed with me!"

Despite herself, Callie smiled at the visual. "And you know what I'd do?" Callie wiped at her eyes and laughed. "You know what I'd do if I found out Frank loved Nancy?"

"What?" Now Vanessa smiled.

"I'd find a virus to infect Frank's computer long enough for him to realize that he's a big dork and is spending way too much time in cyberspace trying to fix it and not enough time with the REAL love of his life. And then I'd wait for him to crawl back to me. And then…" Callie spoke with animation. "I'd…"

"Dump HIM!" Vanessa finished.

Both girls smiled at the ridiculous images they had painted.

"Thanks, Van," Callie managed. "I needed to NOT think about everything. I'm so upset and so tired and… well, scared,…". Callie paused, then went on, "And I can't shake this feeling that I'm being watched, you know?" She swallowed hard.

"I know," Vanessa answered. In truth, she shared Callie's uncertainty, but refused to vocalize it, as if speaking the words would substantiate her fears. Shaking it off, she flung herself back on the sofa next to her friend and gave Callie a quick hug. Closing her eyes, Vanessa allowed herself to be comforted by the fact that Joe and Frank seemed to be about to receive news about a break in the case. Plus, she was in a safe apartment, had police protection, and would be awaiting the arrival of Joe. Rationalizing that she would probably be okay, at least for the time being, Vanessa turned to Callie and opened her eyes.

"Cal?" Vanessa questioned.

"Hmmm?"

"Nancy would be no match for my Tae Bo moves, you know."

With a small chuckle, Callie shook her head at Vanessa's silliness and silently thanked her for being such a wonderful friend and support system.

She did not know that soon she would need all of the support she could get.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe Hardy tapped his fingers impatiently on the dashboard and glanced sidelong at his brother in the driver's seat. Clenching his teeth, he tried, and failed, to concentrate on waiting and, instead, found his thoughts wandering to the plethora of information that they had just received from the Chief. Now, hours later, he was sitting in his car staking out a house that potentially held the monster who'd attacked Mandy and Charlotte and who had wreaked havoc on all of their lives. If it were up to him, he'd storm into that house, right now, by himself, and show the …man… what _real _violence was all about.

As if on cue, he heard his brother's voice interrupting his thoughts. "Joe? Calm down," Frank stated in a soft and even voice, never once letting his eyes leave the house upon which they were focused.

"How can you expect me to calm down?" Joe blurted out, more forcefully than he had intended to. Not only were his thoughts whirling as he tried to make sense of all the information he'd received, but Frank wasn't exactly on his list of favorite people at the moment, after having inadvertently put him in his own rather dangerous predicament with his girlfriend and future sister in law. _That, _Joe knew, was a situation he would address with his brother, but not now. He needed plenty of time to think of how he could shake some sense into Frank.

"Because if you want results," Frank answered evenly, "then you have to follow the rules."

Sighing in exasperation, Joe slammed his hand down on the seat. "Aren't you the least bit anxious to get this guy?! I don't understand you at all sometimes!" Joe knew he was being irrational, but Frank's calm demeanor, combined with his earlier behavior and the stress of the case, was seriously beginning to get to him. It was only when Joe turned to his brother and noticed how firmly he was clutching the steering wheel, and how he never moved his eyes from the house, that he stopped. Frank was every bit as eager to get this guy as he was, but he was handling his fury in his own way, as he always did.

"You know I am, Joe. Anxious, that is. And as far as not understanding your brother, welcome to my world."

Joe bit his lip. He knew that fighting with Frank right now wouldn't help anyone. "Fine," he responded.

"Fine," Frank answered. Then, snapping himself into the present, Frank shook his head and looked around. "Do you see Nancy?" he asked.

If Joe was about to be calm, THAT response sent him reeling. "FRANK!" He yelled, causing Frank to jump from his seat a bit in surprise. "You've got to be kidding me right now! We're here and all you can think about is Nancy?! What the hell is the matter with you?!"

"What are YOU yelling about?!" Frank shot back, genuinely shocked. "Collig is in the first car. There are three more police cruisers around the property, ready to go. I was just wondering who Nancy ended up with. After all," Frank went on, "We asked HER to get in on this case. It's only fair that not only can the police help if there's trouble, but that we can, too. What's your problem?" Frank finally turned so he was facing his brother.

Seeing the sense in Frank's argument, Joe let it go. Still, when Frank mentioned Nancy, a tightening in his gut caused almost an averse physical reaction. Still, he knew he could force himself to deal with the whole Nancy/ Frank issue later and deal with the present case now.

"Okay," Joe muttered, barely able to look at his brother.

"I don't understand," Frank began, but was immediately cut off with Joe's "Let it go." For a minute, the brothers started at each other, waiting for a move in this game of chess.

Finally, it was Frank who spoke. "I don't know what's going on with you, Joe. But whatever it is, I don't want to deal with it right now. Let's just review what we know and make sure that we're on the same page."

Resigned, Joe acquiesced. He hated this methodical review of details that was Frank's modus operandi, but, at the same time, he respected it. On most occasions, Frank's ability to solve a case was a direct result of his talent for listening, reviewing, and understanding even the smallest detail. Plus, this case was personal to him. He wasn't going to mess up justice and let this guy get away on a technicality because he failed to follow procedure. Still, he knew he would get justice in his own right anyway. "Go ahead," Joe finally answered his brother.

"Okay," Frank began, again looking at the house in front of them. "So far, we have three victims. The first, Leslie, was attacked by three men. Van, Cal, Mandy and Charlotte witnessed the perpetrators running from the crime scene. Only one of the three stopped, threatened the girls, and left. That was a…" Frank paused, hating the image it conjured, "gang rape, and there was DNA collected at the scene."

Joe also could barely stomach the image, but continued the recap. "Then Mandy was attacked and… Killed…" Joe shook his head at the image and sighed, hating that he had been unable to stop this madman before now. Slowly, he went on. "However, in that case, it appears to be a lone assailant responsible for the rape and murder. In Charlotte's case," he continued, "she got away, but, again, there was one perp. And, in the last two cases, there was no DNA evidence. It looks like the guy used protection and did a fine job … cleaning up… after himself."

Frank continued, his eyes darkening as he spoke. "We KNOW, from the girls, that the guy had blue-ice blue- eyes. He's gotten more brazen in his attacks, actually going to Charlotte's office." Joe winced, knowing that Vanessa also worked there. Frank noted the response, but continued. "Clearly, it's a case of revenge against the girls for witnessing the initial attack. But why? And why only one guy now instead of three?"

"I don't know, but we're here now," Joe replied, thoughts wandering again.

At the police station, the Chief had informed Nancy, Frank and Joe about a major break in the case. The DNA taken from Leslie Smith had come back and there had been a positive match to two people in the system. One, a Roger Timms, had escaped from prison several years earlier and was at large. The other, a Jim Dee, had a minor record from his teen years for theft but had otherwise led a relatively inconspicuous adulthood. In fact, he was a citizen of Edison, a neighboring town to Bayport, and it was here that they found themselves, along with several other patrol officers, staking out his house. An investigation of his job came up empty, but while other officers frantically searched the surrounding areas, the Hardys and several officers, along with the Chief, had pulled up and searched Dee's home to no avail. Now, they waited in hiding for his potential return hoping for, though not expecting, any action, while the police continued to put out an APB for Dee's arrest. The town was on edge.

Suddenly, in the distance, two officers waved frantically and sirens started blaring.

Glancing at each other momentarily, the Hardys started to open their car doors, but were blocked from advancing by another patrol car in their path. Two officers emerged and immediately got in their way.

"Move!" Joe shouted at one officer, trying to push his way forward.

"Sorry," the officer replied apologetically, "But the Chief said you couldn't go forward—you're unarmed. You know that."

Frank tried helplessly to look over the patrol car while Joe continued to argue, in a futile attempt, with the officers.

Within a matter of minutes, it didn't matter anyway. Chief Collig, along with another officer, approached them as sirens continued blaring around.

"Frank, Joe," The Chief spoke in a serious, if annoyed, tone. "You know you're only here because of your father's relationship with the force and, although I've always respected you both, you are far too involved with this case to be objective, and I do NOT want you here any longer. You and your friend Nancy, who has also been restricted from what's happening, are to go back to the station to help, if you MUST." The Chief sighed and then continued. "If you want to help, you know I agreed to let you as a favor to your father. But this case is getting too dangerous."

"Whatever!" Joe snapped angrily. He wasn't in the mood for politics. "What happened?" He motioned to the officers in the distance.

Knowing he had no choice but to reveal what he knew, Collig replied, "We, the officers still searching the premises on foot, found a body which we have just identified as that of Roger Timms."

"What?!" Frank and Joe asked in unison.

"You mean that … the rapist and murderer… one of them... is DEAD?! That doesn't make any sense!" Frank's mind started whirling as he uttered the question.

"No, Frank, it doesn't," Collig quickly agreed. "But…"

At that exact moment, to add to the confusion, Collig's radio went off. Before he could continue his statement, Collig took the handset and spoke into it, responding to his page.

"3720—Over," he responded.

"Chief?"

Collig sighed. You'd think after all of their training, the new officers would know that the purpose of codes was to keep identities and information a SECRET from the outsiders who may have access to police lines and scanners. Angrily, he responded, "What?! This better be good. AND USE YOUR CODES!"

"Uhh-- sorry. Chief—"

Collig muttered a choice phrase under his breath as Joe and Frank listened.

"Dee, Jim… suspect at large, apprehended going westbound on 280."

Incredulous, Collig and the Hardys stared at the radio. Around them, other officers who had access to the lines, froze.

"That's right, Chief. Uh-- 3720.

We got him….."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Kimmy, Remey, Shani8: Thank you for pretty much consistently giving feedback! I'm not sure how many people are actually reading the story, but I am glad that you all seem to be enjoying it! :) FYI-- I am trying to deal with, in my own mind, the Frank/Nancy relationship (one way or another), the fact that the story takes place around the anniversary of Iola's death, and the actual mystery (which will begin to pick up) and to tie it all together. This story actually took me about a year and a half to write, so I hope that it will meet your expectations. Thanks again to everyone who gives feedback for your support! _

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 11

"Well, I guess that's it, then," Nancy spoke, stifling a yawn with one hand and glancing at her watch. The time read 8:00 a.m. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the table at which she was seated. Next to her, Frank was staring straight ahead, but she knew him well enough to know that he was deep in thought about something. Beside him, Joe was finishing the last of a very large cup of coffee. Finally, Fenton Hardy and Ezra Collig rounded out the small group gathered in a meeting office at the back of the police station. Trying hard to ignore the small growl in her stomach, Nancy noted with some surprise that she had been up for almost 36 hours now. The press conference outside the station and the sheer magnitude of the manhunt of which she had just taken part reminded her that this was not a dream.

"Yes. I guess so," Fenton spoke up, finally answering Nancy's comment.

The sound of his voice seemed to have an effect on the group, as Frank seemed to snap out of his reverie and Joe finally put down the cup of coffee. Collig remained silent.

"I don't know," Joe finally spoke up. Something about this case was bothering him, and he didn't quite know how to articulate his thoughts. He did know, though, by the looks on the faces of those gathered in the room with him, that the same thought appeared to be on others' minds as well. He continued. "Everything just seems so—anti-climatic, I guess."

"Well, son," Fenton cut in. "I know how you feel, but sometimes things are what they are. There's an old adage of which I'm sure you're familiar, and that is, basically, that sometimes the simplest, most obvious solution really IS the simplest, most obvious solution. It appears to be the case here."

Joe watched as his brother seemed to spring to life all of a sudden. Looking directly at his father, Frank interjected, "Yeah—but you don't believe that here, Dad, do you?" It was more of a statement than a question.

After a pause that was just long enough to confirm Frank's suspicion, Fenton replied, "No matter what, we're not out of the woods yet anyway." Slowly, he exhaled. Both of his sons were right; in his gut, he knew it. But for once in his life, he had absolutely no explanation as to why or how he knew that something was amiss. Still, he did, and he knew that the best way to get to an answer was to listen. He started the dialog casually by mentioning the obvious to the group. "Even IF Roger Timms is dead, and even IF Jimmy Dee is behind bars, we've still got one, very dangerous fugitive at large. Perhaps that's what we all should be concentrating on."

"Aw, come on dad!" Joe found himself getting increasingly frustrated. "You know something is wrong here as well as all of us, but for some reason you're caving into the cops…"

"Enough!" Seemingly out of nowhere Ezra Collig, the normally relatively even-tempered Chief of Police spoke up forcefully, directing everyone's attention to him. Slamming his hand down with a _thud _on the table, he stood up and, one by one, met everyone's eyes, finally settling on Fenton. "Fenton," he began, "We go way back. I have the utmost respect for you as a detective and as a former officer. I even admit that Frank and Joe, and Nancy here, have all accomplished the formidable task of making names for themselves as detectives and are, in their young lives, quite good." He was growing more animated as he went on. "But this is IT! Case CLOSED! IF there was any doubt that I had that Callie or Vanessa was in any real danger here, or that we got the wrong guy, you KNOW I'd pursue it. As it is, I have officers Jacobs and Daley on constant police surveillance for the girls until suspect #3 is caught. But I cannot let you all go on raising doubts here about what we've done already! As it is, it was a favor to you," he paused, raising his hands in exasperation and motioning to Fenton, "To even get the kids involved in the case. We don't need bad press and…" He spoke more slowly now for emphasis, "WE HAVE INDISPUTABLE EVIDENCE THAT EVRYTHING HAS BEEN DONE CORRECTLY AND WE HAVE OUR MAN."

"We're NOT kids!" Joe interjected, "And we're also not doubting our faith in you. We all know that you've done everything that you could, but aren't you in the least bit—bothered by all of this?!"

"NO!" Collig fired back. Finally, he turned to Fenton and said directly, "My friend, you have exactly 10 minutes here to finish up what you need to. I don't expect they'll be any problem, right?"

"Thanks, Ezra," Fenton responded evenly, shaking the Chief's hand and refusing to fuel his fire. "We'll be out shortly. I'll talk with you if I need to."

With a grunt, Collig turned and left the room in a huff.

"What's with…" Joe began, until Fenton held up a hand. "Stop, Joe. It's been a long night for all of us. You know what? Collig may just be right, AND he has extended himself for all of us. It DOES look like an airtight case. We can't go on instinct alone here. Look at what we have and tell me your problem with it. Frank? Nancy? Go on, too." Fenton looked at the faces of the young detectives around him and decided to see if he could work through what they all knew in order to see what they didn't know.

"Okay," Nancy began again. It had been an interesting sight to watch the Hardys, all three of them, work together. Still, she knew she belonged in this game and could play at their level. "Timms was found dead on the property of Jimmy Dee, seemingly of blunt force trauma to the head. Based on DNA evidence, he was one of the attackers on the Leslie Smith case—that's indisputable. We also know that Jimmy Dee was one of the attackers as well, also based on DNA evidence." Nancy paused for a deep breath; she'd never seen a case like this before; it was too easy. Then, she continued. "Guys, Collig has a point. Dee **confessed** to murdering Timms, saying that he was about to blow the whistle on the Smith case. THEN, he **confessed** to the rapes of Leslie, Charlotte and Mandy, and the murders of Leslie and Mandy. He had **no alibi** at any of those times. PLUS, he gave us the name of Charlie Hughes, the third assailant in the Smith case, and the one who's still at large. Even though Hughes has no prior record, he HAS been MIA for over a year, seemingly vanishing into thin air. Since he's an ex-Marine, he would have the strength to carry out the attacks, AND he knew both Dee and Timms; they grew up together. Plus, his DNA match is also in military records, so he's the other positive match. He's the one still at large. Finally..."

Before Nancy could continue, Frank finished her thought. "Not only did he confess, but his picture… The one feature that stands out is those ice-blue eyes, which are EXACTLY what Mandy, Charlotte, Cal and Vanessa described." Frank took another glance at the picture before him, supplied by a reticent Collig at Fenton's request. Holding back a shudder, he finished his thought. "So everything seems fine. I mean, we have a confession, a matching physical description, and DNA evidence."

Fenton shrugged. "So why are you all bothered by this, other than the fact that Hughes is still at large? We need to fill in the holes here, if there are any."

Joe stood up and began pacing as Frank and Nancy both took out notepads. Fenton simply listened.

"I'll start," Joe began, feeling better not being confined to the chair. "One—Why could the police catch Dee so easily? He'd gone out of his way NOT to get caught. The whole city knew of the chase. He was caught on a major highway, speeding, drawing attention to himself. Plus, he didn't run. Why?"

Now Frank continued, picking up on Joe's line of thought. "Two, and most importantly, it was supposedly Dee, and Dee alone, responsible for the last two attacks on Charlotte and Mandy. HE threatened all of the girls and swore revenge. But look at him! Yes, those eyes- they're creepy—they stand out. But he's… small! He can't be over 5'4" tall."

"Well, that doesn't mean he can't overpower a woman," Nancy cut in.

"No," Joe shot back, "it doesn't. But it DOES pose a problem with how he could have killed a 6'2" Roger Timms with a blow to the head, doesn't it? And Charlotte, I know for a FACT, is not only tall, but she'd been taking self-defense courses for ages."

"Maybe that's why she escaped?" Nancy queried.

"Maybe," Joe responded. "Maybe not."

"And why does a guy so set on personal revenge for some reason suddenly rat out the third guy?" Frank interjected. "Plus, how do you go from a guy who, for years, had no real record to speak of except for a petty crime as a teenager, to a murderer and rapist?! AND… he held a respectable job, seemed to mind his own business.. It doesn't make sense."

"You're forgetting one important fact," Fenton reminded them. "Leslie Smith was Dee's ex-girlfriend, who apparently dumped him, which provided him with a motive to kill her in his mind. From what I can ascertain of Dee's past, he was a bit of an outcast, which would presumably limit his dating options. If that's the case, then a breakup with a first real love would be devastating."

In the wake of overwhelming evidence, the room grew silent once again.

Finally, Fenton spoke up. "Boys, Nancy, I'll see you later. I need to go over the evidence and speak with Collig again. Until then…" Before leaving the room, he turned to his sons and spoke directly, "Just make sure that Callie and Vanessa are watched, okay? Just… in case…." With that, he vanished into the corridor.

Nancy looked at the Hardys and was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Yawning, she found herself smiling apologetically. "Sorry, guys. I think I'll head to the hotel now, catch up with Ned, and get some shut-eye." Then, a thought occurred to her. "IF you guys are satisfied with the outcome here, and there's nothing I can do to help you further, maybe I should head back in a day or two to River Heights. There's not much of a mystery if your suspect is caught and confessed!" She smiled wryly.

"Are you satisfied?" Frank asked, meeting her eyes.

Nancy swallowed hard. Did Frank mean was she satisfied with the case? Or—was there something else he was hinting at? She honestly didn't know. Maybe she didn't _want _to know.

"Well," she stammered in reply, "I guess I could always be needed." _What?! Why am I playing this word game? Is Frank playing it, too? _Deciding that she ought to stop thinking so much, she hurriedly stated, "I'll stay."

"We can drive you back to the hotel," Frank offered.

"Uh, no—that's okay," Nancy replied. "Ned'll pick me up." Ned! With a start, she realized that she hadn't heard from him all day. A quick glance at her cell-phone revealed that he hadn't called, either; that was unusual. Still, a part of her that she had learned long ago to trust was telling her that she ought to keep a distance from Frank for a while... and that she needed to see Ned.

"You sure?" Frank asked.

"Yes, she's sure," Joe cut in abruptly. Again, he didn't like what he was seeing. "I'm sure Nancy wouldn't say something if she didn't mean it, right?" He looked at her.

"Okaaayyyy," Nancy replied, drawing out the word and giving him a quizzical look. "Yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you later. Be safe."

"You, too," Frank replied. "Thanks, Nance."

With a small wave, Nancy left to call Ned.

Whirling around, Joe faced his brother. He was tired, irritable, worried, and angry at the same time, which he felt was all leading up to him being about ready to roll up into a big ball of fury, directed at Frank. He knew it, he felt it coming on, and, for once, he didn't care.

"Let's go!" Joe shouted to his brother.

"What's the matter with you?!" Frank shot back, stunned.

"We are going to go back to my apartment, NOW, where I will see Vanessa and I'm sure you'll see Callie. That is, IF you make it that far!" With that, he grabbed Frank's arm and started dragging him to the car.

"What the--" Frank began, tearing his arm away from Joe, but following him to their car nonetheless.

"I'm driving," Joe growled. "Get in."

As Frank was about to pause at the passenger door, Joe motioned him in, forcefully. "Now."

Having no choice, Frank, shocked, simply stared at his brother as he entered the car.

Slamming the car into reverse with enough force to knock them both against their seats, Joe paused only long enough to stop, put the gear into forward, and glance sidelong at his brother, stating in a fiery tone that chilled Frank, "We need to have a little chat. And there's no escape!"

With that, Joe peeled out of the parking lot, away from one pair of ice blue eyes….

Towards another.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank so so very much for the wonderful comments and feedback that you have given on this story. I very much appreciate all that you say! I know I can't please everyone (after all, Frank has to end up with SOMEONE- LOL) I hope you continue to read as the mystery part really gets started. Thanks again- I enthusiastically look forward to reading all that you say! I'll update in 2-3 days again!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 12

The car swerved suddenly as Joe pulled on the wheel with more force than he intended. His bad mood was becoming increasingly worse as he headed for his apartment. Between exhaustion, a sneaking suspicion that something was just—wrong – with this case, and the desire to see Vanessa just to make sure that she was okay, he found he could care less about his driving skills. Besides, he KNEW he had to speak with – or to- his brother, and diplomacy had never been one of his strong suits. This was already turning out to be a very bad day.

"Take it easy!" Frank scolded, his hand gripping the door handle so hard that his knuckles turned white. "Slow down!" He gaped at Joe in disbelief.

With that, Joe slammed on the brakes, almost sending both of them flying as the car went into a tailspin. Luckily enough, they had been next to one of Bayport's parks on the way back, which was relatively quiet and isolated. Joe had purposefully picked this route home not only because it was a shortcut, but also because he figured that if he had to kill Frank, it was a pretty decent place to dispose of the body. Stopping suddenly, Joe put the car in park and faced his brother. "Slow enough for you?!" He asked, realizing how angry he sounded and unable to control his temper any longer.

"What the hell are you DOING?!" Frank responded, totally stunned and utterly confused.

Eyes flashing, Joe couldn't help himself and he didn't care to mince words. Looking at his brother, he realized one thing right away—Frank really HAD no idea about what was going on. A brief moment of sympathy crossed his mind but disappeared almost instantaneously when he remembered that he was less than ten minutes away from home, which meant Vanessa—and Callie.

"You know, Frank, you can be a real idiot sometimes. As your BROTHER, I have the right to tell you that. As your FRIEND, I am telling you that." He crossed his arms and stared at his older brother.

Taken totally off guard, Frank sat next to him, his mouth literally hanging open waiting for whatever it was that Joe had to say. Frank barely had time to process Joe's seemingly irrational behavior before Joe unleashed his tirade.

"You know, you're really blowing it, big time!" Joe practically shouted.

"What?! The case? What are you talking about?!" Frank had no clue what was going on. Despite Joe recognizing that, he went on.

"Not the case, Frank! Get a clue! I KNOW about Nancy, and I KNOW that Callie does, too. I had a feeling that we shouldn't have asked for her help on this case! But OOOHHH NNOOOOO…" Joe drew out the words, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize his point, "You didn't listen. "She's valuable, Joe. She can keep her eye on things for us," he continued, mimicking Frank. "Well, I KNOW what she kept her eyes on, and if I wasn't so tired right now, I'd punch you in the head!" Now Joe knew he was being ridiculous, but his anger was overtaking his logic. "You are totally screwing up your life--not to mention Callie's—and Nancy and Ned's, not that I care so much about them, by acting the way you do. GOD! If you were going to cheat, at least don't get caught!"" Joe sighed dramatically. "I'd NEVER cheat on Vanessa, and if I didn't love her anymore for some idiotic reason, then I would at least respect her enough to call it off before I did anything!" Now he couldn't control himself. "You know, I really ought to kick your--"

"Shut up!" Frank shouted, breaking his normally calm and even facade. His face was pale, but Joe saw red creeping into Frank's cheeks, and he knew there was trouble. It took a LOT to piss Frank off, but once that happened, it also took even more effort to calm him down. Joe could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Frank this angry. Still, he was ready. Mentally he was already calculating the excuse he'd have to give Vanessa for what he—what both of them—would look like when they actually arrived back.

Frank went on, fire in his eyes as he unbuckled his seatbelt and whirled towards his brother. "Just shut up!" He repeated, glaring. After letting loose a string of expletives about Joe's comments, the likes of which made Joe, who could outdo almost anyone in that department, blush, Frank motioned with one hand, "Get out of the car—now!"

"Fine!" Joe snapped back, and pushed open his door. Within seconds, Frank was standing in front of him, hands raised in front of him.

"You're seriously going to fight me?" Joe couldn't believe it. The last time he'd actually fought with Frank had been years ago, when they had been kids.

"Gee," Frank responded sarcastically. "I don't think it'll be much of a fight since you're so sure that you can 'kick my ass'."

At once, Joe realized that Frank wasn't kidding, nor was he in control of his emotions, something so rare that it was almost unbelievable. Seeing his brother so wound up threw Joe for a loop.

"Uh…" He stammered, knowing he sounded like an idiot, even to himself.

"You started this, Joe," Frank shot back, furious. "I'll finish it."

Closing his eyes for just a moment, Joe inwardly cursed and thought about how insane this whole thing really was. He'd wanted to talk to Frank, not fight with him.

"Well? …" Frank cut in, interrupting Joe's thoughts and egging him on.

Joe found himself caught between shock and disbelief at how this whole thing had gotten out of control. Immediately he also thought that it would be Frank's black belt and controlled, methodical fighting against his own sheer brute force. Even he wondered who'd come out on top in that one! Looking at his big brother, whom he'd always idolized and respected above anyone else, Joe felt his resolve quickly waning. After all, hadn't he brooched the subject to help his brother, not to hurt him? Swallowing his pride and actually feeling a little bad that he'd infuriated his brother to the point where they were about to fight, he decided, slowly, to take the high road. Lowering his own hands, which he'd raised defensively, he took a deep breath before responding, "Okay. I'm—sorry. Truce?"

Frank immediately realized the adrenaline in his body as it slowed down, and he felt himself snap back to reality. Looking at his raised fists and feeling every muscle in his body on edge, he felt ashamed at once. What had happened? There was nothing that Joe could do to bring him to this—nothing, no matter how annoying or pesky Joe could occasionally be—that would make him want to fight the brother whom he'd spent his life trying to protect. Unable to meet his brother's eyes, Frank turned around, wordlessly, and stared at the park before him.

Several minutes passed before Joe approached Frank, giving him time to calm down. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Joe asked, humbly, "Are we okay?"

Frank let out a shaky breath and nodded at his brother. "Yeah." Continuing slowly, Frank found that he was searching for the right words to begin. Finally, he did. "Joe, what was that all about? What were you saying? You know WHAT about Nancy? And what does Callie have to do with anything? I didn't like what you were implying…" He stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"Are you being serious?" Joe queried, incredulous. "You really don't know?"

"No, I don't," Frank responded evenly. "But since you're so upset about whatever it is, I'd like you to tell me." All hostility had left his eyes, leaving only a strong desire to get to the bottom of Joe's accusations.

Looking at Frank, Joe believed him. How Frank DIDN'T know, he wasn't sure... but it was his job to tell him.

"Listen, Frank," Joe began, deciding that being direct was the only way to go. "When we were all at the hospital waiting for news about Charlotte, I saw Ned and Callie. Ned left right away, but he looked pretty upset, and Callie looked awful."

Immediately Frank's thoughts jumped to Callie's odd behavior at the hospital. Obviously, Joe knew the source of it but, rather than prod him on, he decided to listen; he knew it was somehow important to. Nodding, he indicated for Joe to go on.

He did. "Vanessa and I had just arrived, but apparently Callie had gone to find you and was told that you were with Nancy reviewing some information upstairs. When she saw you, she told me that she saw you kiss Nancy. Add to that the sheer bad luck that Ned also happened to appear at that moment, and BOTH of them saw it. They're both really upset," Joe added, noting how his understatement had its desired effect. Finishing, he noted, "And Callie, Frank—she had no clue about your history with Nancy and she's totally devastated."

It took Frank a moment to process the information. With a start, he blurted out, "Nothing happened, Joe!"

Shocked, Joe replied, "It obviously did."

"It did NOT!" Frank's response was so vehement that Joe was taken aback. "I did NOT kiss Nancy. It just—it didn't happen!"

"Well, Frank…" Joe searched for the right words. "Maybe it did; maybe it didn't. The point is that both Ned and Callie THINK it happened, so you better try to clear that up before this gets any worse! And like I said, Callie had no clue about your past with Nancy."

Frank looked so shocked that Joe actually felt sorry for him; still, he did not expect to hear the next words that Frank uttered.

"WHAT history?!" he asked, genuinely confused.

"FRANK!!" Joe sighed in exasperation. "Look, even I know that you and Nancy have had some things happen in the past. I have no desire to know exactly what." He held up a hand as Frank went to speak, effectively cutting him off. "And even if you deny it, there's clearly still something between the two of you now. Admit it! It's as clear as day and it … annoys me… to no end."

Frank stood silent a few minutes, processing all that Joe had said. Finally, he spoke. The sadness in his eyes stopped any anger that Joe had felt. "Joe," Frank said softly, barely able to meet Joe's eyes. "I… I guess I never thought of Nancy and I having a 'history.' Maybe…" Joe felt bad, watching his brother fumble for words…" Maybe some things DID happen—a long time ago—but they're in the past." Meeting Joe's eyes, finally, he continued, "They really are. I consider Nancy a friend, and I asked her here because she's a great detective, and I really did think she could help. And I am telling you the truth that I didn't kiss Nancy. But…" Frank paused, taking a shaky breath, "It did ALMOST happen, and I guess that's just as bad. Thanks, Joe. I… I get it." Frank turned his head slightly, averting his brother's eyes.

Joe sucked in his breath. He hadn't expected Frank's reaction. Although he and Frank were as close as brothers could get, the one area that they never really spoke about was their personal relationships. For Frank, it had always been Callie. His brother had always been private by nature, and he had especially been protective over Callie. And Joe knew that for himself, it could have been any number of girls. Those girls he had jokingly discussed with his brother, never in a derogatory way, but just in "guy" talk. But Vanessa… and Iola… they were off limits. Maybe that was why this discussion was so hard…

Shaking off the awkwardness, Joe knew he had done the right thing, as … odd.., as it felt.

Finally, Frank turned again towards him. He looked so sad, and Joe simply felt terrible. "I guess Callie's really upset." It was a statement, not a question. Finally, he managed a small smile. "I guess we'd better get home so I can deal with this, huh?"

Joe returned the smile. "Yeah—I'll be with Vanessa, thanks. You and Callie should take a nice, long walk somewhere other than-- anywhere within hearing distance of me!"

"Just one question, though," Frank stated as he walked around to the passenger side of the car and got in. Waiting for Joe to start the engine, he went on. "How did you get involved in all of this? I mean, normally you try to stay out of stuff like this."

Joe sighed and grinned ruefully. "By default."

Seeing Frank's confused expression, Joe let out a small laugh, and then spoke. "I was ganged up on by Vanessa and Callie. It wasn't pleasant." He shuddered at the memory. Seeing Frank's serious expression, Joe continued, "Don't worry—I defended you," he reassured him. "I HAD to. I was outnumbered by team Callie and team Vanessa. Not a pleasant place to be. I was on your team by default, like I said."

"Team Frank?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joe laughed. "No, team "GUY." We're all lumped together sometimes."

Frank smiled. "So—you really think I can work this out with Callie?" He couldn't believe he was asking for Joe's advice about this intensely personal situation.

"Well, "Joe said pointedly, the smile slowly fading as he focused on the road home, "I think you need to decide what YOU want first. It's only fair. For everyone. "Joe knew it was hard for Frank to talk to him about this, and he was actually honored by Frank's opening up to him. Still, he had to add, "But for the record, I'm "Team Callie" all the way."

Frank sighed. "Hurry up, Joe. Let's go back," he said quietly. "The girls are waiting."

He did not know that they were not the only ones in waiting…


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you to all the kind people who have taken time to review my story. Violetsunshine, amethyst, Sara, dr. drew, Helen, Elja, Kimmy, Franknjoe, and Reney-- I have read your reviews with enthusiasm and you have made me smile! FYI-- This chapter and the next one try to tie together some relationship issues but lead into the action and the mystery, all of which pick up with full speed in three chapters. All of the elements (relationships, tie in with Iola's birthday, and the actual mystery at hand) tie in together eventually. The story is, I believe, 3 chapters, and I will update every 2-3 days, as usual. Thank you!_

**"**Fire and Ice"

Chapter 13

Pulling into the garage in the apartment complex, Joe stifled a yawn as he prepared to leave the car. All he could think about now was going home and dragging Vanessa into bed for a nice, long nap. The thought of sleep actually brought a smile to his face and he even heard a small laugh of glee escape his lips. Noting Frank's expression, he ascertained that Frank had heard it, too. Suddenly feeling pretty dopey for want of sleep, Joe finally let the yawn escape and motioned for his brother to follow him. Frank nodded and began to walk after him. Joe took only a quick minute to notice that although Frank looked as tired as he felt, Frank's mind was clearly on things other than sleep. Nodding encouragingly at him, Joe was about to walk into the building and head onto the elevator that led to his apartment when he noticed that Frank had stopped.

Sighing, Joe wished he could fall asleep on the spot. Still, he was about to follow Frank when Frank stopped him.

"Go ahead," Frank began. "I'm just going to talk to the officers over there". He paused, motioning to the two cruisers parked in the distance. Continuing, he said, "Those are the cops who were assigned to Callie and Vanessa. I recognized them from before."

Looking at the direction into which Frank had pointed, Joe surmised, "You're going to fill them in on everything, right? Make sure that Collig has them up to date?"

"Actually, I was going to find out why they're both down here instead of in front of your door," he pointed out plainly.

"Oh." Joe replied. Frank did have a point there.

Frank had to smile at his younger brother's expression. Joe looked so—forlorn—about a delay in sleep that it was almost comical. He, on the other hand, knew that he couldn't sleep; at least, not yet. He had to straighten things out with Callie. _If I can_, he thought silently. Pushing the thought—the fear--to the back of his mind, he found himself telling Joe, "Go in. I'll be there in a few minutes. Besides, you'll have some time with Vanessa alone. I'm sure that Callie will give you some privacy." Saying her name out loud caused a pang in his heart. Still, he felt better now, somehow, knowing that he might have the power to undo some of the pain he had caused, however inadvertently or unintentionally.

Looking relieved, Joe muttered a quick, "Will do" before heading upstairs.

As soon as he opened the door, it took only a moment for him to see Vanessa. Hurling herself into his arms, she hugged him tightly. Joe took a moment to return the hug. "This is even better than sleep," he whispered to her softly, content. Tilting her face up to his, he kissed her deeply, letting all the confusion and action of the past two days slowly melt away.

It was several minutes later, at least, when he heard in the background a throat clearing. Breaking apart from Vanessa for a moment, he turned sideways and glanced at Callie, who looked embarrassed. Giving Vanessa a quick wink, he turned to Callie.

"What?" he asked, innocently.

Normally, he knew, Callie would have had some sort of quick comeback for him about his sense of discretion. When she didn't speak immediately, it hit him that it must be painful for her to watch him, knowing what had been going on with Frank. He also noted at the same time that Callie appeared to be looking out the still open door, waiting.

At once, he spoke, still keeping an arm firmly around Vanessa's shoulders. "He's coming."

Seeing the relief in her eyes gave him some hope. She had been worried—really worried—about Frank, and that meant that she still loved him; that much was clear.

"Thanks," she said softly. "I'll... um... wait in the hallway."

"You don't have to do that, Cal," Vanessa began, but was immediately cut off by Callie. "No, no. It's fine. Really. Anyway, Frank will be here soon." Then, with a small smirk that she couldn't help, she added, "It's way too hot in here, anyway." With a small flourish, she gave Joe a quick affectionate squeeze on the arm before heading out and silently shutting the door behind her.

As soon as Callie left the room, Vanessa sprang into action. Wrapping her arms around Joe, she hugged him tightly again before half dragging him to the couch. Once there, she nestled into Joe's arms and smiled happily. Holding her, Joe settled back, pulled her against him, and slowly closed his eyes. THIS was what he'd been waiting for. Sleep was so close…

"Joe?"

He didn't hear it the first time, apparently, as he'd later find out. Actually, he didn't hear his name at all. It wasn't until he realized that his body was moving from being gently shaken that reality hit—he wasn't sleeping.

"MMMMMM?" It was all he could manage.

"Joe? Hon? Wake up." NOW he heard it. He also recognized the tone. Vanessa wanted to talk.

"Come on, babe. Open your eyes."

_Crap!!_Even in his half conscious state, Joe began weighing his options. _Pretend to sleep. Pretend to have a hearing problem. Pretend…_

"Joe!"

_Uh oh. _He KNEW that tone, the one that told him he wouldn't win and he shouldn't even try. Damn, this day kept getting worse! With a deep sigh, Joe slowly sat up and opened his eyes with more effort than he thought he could muster. He found himself wondering if it was even possible to literally feel bags forming under your eyes. Pulling back from Vanessa, he saw her looking at him, intently, waiting.

"Van?" He asked, weakly.

"Yes?"

"Is this gonna be a quick question, or is this going to be the "I need to put on a large cup of coffee" discussion?" Seeing her expression, he rubbed his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time and reached over to her, patting her knee. "Don't be mad, babe. I'm not being sarcastic; I just really need to know."

Vanessa stared at him for a moment, knowing that they need to talk, now, even though Joe looked like he was about to keel over. Although she felt bad, she simply smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek before getting up and responding, "I'll start the pot."

Watching her bound into the kitchen, Joe was surprised that, although he was exhausted, he wasn't the least bit upset with Vanessa. As she scooted around the kitchen looking for everything, he was struck again by how much he loved her. Even now, her boundless energy and enthusiasm created a glow around her, even though he knew that she was probably still very scared about everything that had happened. With her ash blonde hair and long white summer dress, she looked like an angel. She looked like… a bride. _Someday. _He smiled at the thought.

Fifteen minutes later, having accepted his fate, he took a cup of coffee from Vanessa. He could tell that her patience was wearing thin. Wryly, he surmised that that was what he must look like to Frank, all of the time. He decided that he could delay this or just get to it, so he decided on the latter, praying that he could somehow manage to think quickly enough to give her just enough information so that she'd be comfortable, and not quite enough to make her nervous. Nodding at her and with a smile, he gave in. "Go ahead—what do you want to know?"

Looking relieved, Vanessa reached over and squeezed his hand. "First," she began, meeting his eyes, "How ARE you? Thanks for calling me yesterday with an update. I know you must be exhausted, and that I'm not helping the matter…" She smiled, then went on, "But I'm worried about you. So much has happened."

He could barely believe it. Vanessa was the one who had witnessed a heinous crime, knew two of the victims, and was under a clear threat. She was the one who had lived under so much stress these past six weeks. Yet, she was worried about him. It was enough to make his throat catch for a minute. She was incredible. "I'm okay," he finally managed. "I really am—more than okay." He squeezed her hand in return.

"Is it true?" she went on, anxiously. "I mean, did you really get the guy?" The fear in her eyes was palatable, and Joe felt it deeply. Still, he didn't know how to answer her. "Well, I didn't do much, actually," he admitted. "But yes. The police have this guy in custody. His name is Jimmy Dee. He confessed to the crimes, and to killing Roger Timms. So… I mean, yeah. Everything seems good." Well, that was the truth. Finishing, he reminded her, "But the third guy, Charlie Hughes, is an ex-Marine, and he's still at large. So you HAVE to be careful." Unable to help himself, he reached over and hugged her tightly. "Because, you know…"

"I know," Vanessa responded quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.

After a few moments, they slowly broke apart. Joe, relieved, settled back into the sofa. NOW, he could get some rest.

"Joe?"

"MMMM?" Something inside told him that his reprieve was now over.

"So what aren't you telling me?" She stared at him, pointedly.

"Wha--" He began, but was instantly cut off.

"Cut it out, Joe," she retorted. "IF you really believed that this case was over, you'd be acting a lot more relieved. But you're not, so spill it—now."

Weakly, Joe sighed. He couldn't win. "I told you the truth, Van," was all he could manage.

"What didn't you tell me? I know how you lie by omission, my dear."

Damn, she was good. With a small curse muttered under his breath, he decided to tell her the truth. "It doesn't feel right, Van. But—I mean, there's DNA evidence from the first gang rape about all three men, in addition to a confession... and all evidence, physical and circumstantial, leads everyone to the conclusion that things are as they should be."

Vanessa's eyes grew wide. "Leslie Smith was gang raped?!" She gasped.

Now Joe did close his eyes. How had he let that slip? Trying to recover, he stammered, "Well, yes… BUT—"

"But you should have told me that," she finished for him. Shaking her head in shock, she went on. "Come ON, Joe! That's something you should have leveled with me about in the first place. I'm a big girl—I can handle it."

"I guess you're right," he admitted. "We just didn't want to scare you any more than you were already."

"Okay," Vanessa finally gave in. "I disagree, but okay." She crossed her arms. After a few minutes, she spoke again. "The guy—this Dee—he had the… eyes, right?" She shuddered at the image.

"Yeah, he did. That's what makes this case so hard. I mean, everything FITS. It's just small details that bother me."

"Are you SURE that the guy in custody confessed AND had DNA evidence? And that DNA wasn't corrupted in any way?"

"I'm sure," Joe replied, grudgingly.

"But what if he had a brother or something?" Vanessa asked, gripping at straws.

Despite himself, Joe laughed. "You mean like an evil twin or something?" he asked. Seeing the look on Vanessa's face, though, he stopped. It wasn't really the time for kidding around.

"I don't know much about Dee's family," he had to admit. "And Frank would really be the one to ask about that, because his specialty is Forensics. BUT-- on a basic level I know that each person's DNA is unique. His DNA was at the first crime scene and, as results come back from the later two, they'll probably be at those scenes as well."

Vanessa contemplated the scenario. "But—the guy, Hughes I think his name is, who's still out there… he doesn't have those icy blue eyes does he?"

"No," Joe replied. "I saw his profile. He has brown eyes."

After some consideration, Vanessa mentioned, "But I .. and Callie… we were threatened by Dee, then. So if Dee is behind bars, and Hughes never really threatened us, then maybe we ARE safe." Seeming to convince herself, Vanessa grew more confident as she continued. Gently, she said to Joe, " Maybe for once, babe, you ARE wrong. I mean…" She hesitated.

"What?" Joe inquired, listening.

"Do you think maybe I could get a look at Dee's picture? If nothing else, I'd feel better. Trust me, I would know those eyes. They're… chilling." She met his eyes.

"I can do that," he finally answered. "As a matter of fact, you'll probably be called in as a witness anyway and will be asked to identify him." Maybe Vanessa was right—maybe all of the minor issues with the case didn't mean anything. Perhaps he had been too personally involved and was looking for something—anything—to make sure that Vanessa was totally safe. Looking at the evidence, he allowed himself to relax a bit. It wasn't the first time he would have been wrong. Still, he couldn't totally shake his doubt. "If nothing else, Van, you'll still have police protection until Hughes is caught. I think Frank was making sure that all of those details were in order."

Letting out a small breath, Joe yawned, stretched, and began to close his eyes, after blowing a kiss to Vanessa. At least that was it, for now.

"Speaking of which…" Vanessa cut in.

_Wishful thinking._ Joe knew he was past the point where caffeine would save him. Opening his eyes again, he managed to get out, "I thought we were done."

"Sorry, babe—you thought wrong." Vanessa smiled.

"This is torture, Van—come on!" He begged, and did his best little boy expression, hoping to charm her into a small rest. He could almost _taste _the sleep. But it kept eluding him…..

"Only one more thing—scout's honor," she replied, crossing her fingers.

"Go ahead," he responded with a sigh. Crossing his arms, he leaned back and nodded, encouraging her to get on with it.

"Frank…" She began.

"Oh, no!" Joe cut her off. "Stop right there. Seriously, Van—I don't want to go there! It was bad enough yesterday at the hospital. I can't even THINK about this right now. Frank's business is his business, period. I am officially out."

Vanessa pounced. "B.S., Joe! You are NOT out! I spent all last night with my best friend in the world who's just brokenhearted about Frank. You can't tell me you don't care about Callie!"

"I didn't say…" He tried to cut in, but stopped when he saw that resistance was futile. When Vanessa had a point to make, she would make it. Period.

"I just can't believe that Frank would do this to her! And for what? Nancy Drew?! She should just keep her poison claws to herself! What kind of … woman… and I use the term loosely, would try to steal away someone's fiancé? HUH?!" She glared at Joe.

Reminding himself that he still had to kill his brother, he managed to stammer, "I don't think that's exactly what happened, Van..."

"What?!" Vanessa shouted. "How can you say that?!"

Joe sighed. Vanessa's fierce loyalty to her friends mirrored his own. But he couldn't be this infuriating... could he?! He would have contemplated it further had not Vanessa continued on her tirade. It would have been funny under normal circumstances to see her this fired up. Then again, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been the target! Thinking of his brother and how he'd get his own pay back on him, he muttered to himself, "I guess I'll take one for the team…"

"What?!"

Raising his hands in the air as a sign of helplessness, he recovered quickly. "I said you're being mean!" He winced- that was pretty bad.

"I'm being mean?!" she bellowed. "How? And what exactly are you going to do to fix things?"

Joe snorted despite himself. "Van, calm down!" He laughed. Although that could have fueled her fire more, he saw her waver... slightly. "I'm honored that you have faith in me to fix things—I really am—but how on earth am I going to get in the middle of Frank and Callie's relationship? And what do you want me to say about Nancy?! There's only so much I can do!"

Vanessa, still worked up, found herself slowly coming down from her high. Still, she went on. "You know, this is all Frank and Nancy's fault. But it's more Nancy's than Frank's because she should keep her hands off other people's property!"

"Uh-huh." _Slow her down, Joe. Slow her down_. It was the only way he could think of to end this. Let her expend her energy. Besides, he didn't disagree with her—totally.

"But, really, Frank's so—stupid! Did you know he was like this?!"

Despite himself, he felt a flash of color rise to his cheeks. Vanessa was everything to him, but still—only HE could say something about Frank and get away with it. Vanessa saw the color in Joe's face and realized the line she'd crossed. Slowly, the wind was dying from her sails.

"S… Sorry.." She managed.

Joe took a deep breath and held Vanessa's hand. "Van," he said evenly. "Frank's NOT an idiot. He made a mistake, and I think he knows that. So please-- lay off my brother. Let me deal with him. In all these years, he's been nothing but loyal and good, so please just cut him a break." He met her eyes and smiled, sadly. "And yes, I care about Callie. You know I do. I know she's your best friend, and she's been a really close friend to me, too. I want to see her happy, and, until now, both she and Frank HAVE been happy. But I'll level with you. No matter what Frank does, when push comes to shove… I'll back HIM. It's just the way it is. And—" He rubbed her hand…"I would expect you to back whoever you'd like. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. But no matter what—just promise me that nothing that happens with Frank and Callie will affect us, okay? It's just not fair—to anyone."

Vanessa felt herself melting. Joe was right, and she knew it. Slowly, she leaned in towards him, and he pulled her close.

FINALLY…. Joe thought happily, closing his eyes again.

"But Nancy Drew?!"

"Van!" he shouted, in exasperation.

"Okay, okay." Vanessa smiled, content to give in. For the time being, at least, the case was forgotten.

Joe fell asleep immediately. Vanessa cuddled next to him, resting. She heard the cop outside her door on his cell phone and felt safe.

She did not know her world was about to be shattered…..


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you a million times for the many wonderful reviews. At times, it is hard to stay positive if you don't think people are reading, but those of you who have been so kind keep me going. SO-- FYI-- this is the last chapter that will end without some kind of "action." You'll see what I mean! :) Also, there are some wonderful authors whose stories I have just discovered who are posting feedback on mine-- you all inspire me as well. You're wonderful!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 14

As she entered the lobby of the hotel in which she was staying, a very worried Nancy again checked her cell phone in the hope that, somehow, she could discover some reason why it hadn't rung all day. She had left a message for Ned the night before letting him know her where she was and what she was doing. With the excitement of the case and the stakeout, though, she hadn't thought to check her messages. That was why, when she had been about to leave the Hardys at the stationhouse, she had been surprised that Ned hadn't responded. At first, she thought it was a fluke. But then, after having called several times and receiving no response, either from his cell phone or from the room number, she began to get nervous. Then, she got very nervous.

Unable to reach Ned, and having already declined an offer from Frank for a ride, she had ended up calling a cab. Now here she was, finding herself sick with worry. Along with lack of sleep and the fall of adrenaline, and having absolutely no clue as to where to even begin to contact Ned, Nancy felt tears spring to her eyes.

Finally arriving at her room, Nancy slid the card through the slot outside the door and entered. Almost immediately, she saw Ned, who had just turned around upon hearing the door open. At once, not caring where he had been or why he hadn't answered the phone, Nancy dropped her purse on the floor and ran to him, hugging him tightly. It took her only a few moments to realize that, although he had his arms around her, he was not holding her tightly back.

Puzzled, and weak with relief, she stepped back to look at him. It was then that she saw, out of the corner of her eye, a suitcase. About to ask him what that was about, and where he had been, she was cut off as Ned stepped back and extended a hand to silence her.

"Nan," he managed, fighting the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him, "I've got to go."

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On the way back to their house, Callie barely spoke a word. Frank, sitting next to her in the back seat, kept his arm firmly around her. Even though she rested her head on his shoulder and had her hand on his knee, he could feel the tension in her body, in the air.

Gently rubbing her arm, Frank sighed inwardly, waiting for the ride to be over. _So Joe had been right_. Callie HAD known about the… incident… with Nancy. He had been such a fool not to pick up on her sudden change in demeanor, not to see the haunted look that must have been in her eyes as she had clung to him at the hospital. Now, he knew, he had a lot of explaining to do. Deep down, he didn't know what he could say to make the situation any better. At the time, when he had almost kissed Nancy, he hadn't thought about the consequences. That was the problem, he now realized—he hadn't thought at all. _WHY did I do that? _The question plagued him still. Perhaps seeing Nancy again had stirred up the old feelings he had harbored for her as a teenager, albeit only for a brief time. Maybe it was the fact that things were so… easy... with her. They always seemed to be on the same page; to finish each other's thoughts. Perhaps it was the idea that nothing would come of it; that he would soon be off the market anyway. He didn't know WHAT it had been; he just knew that it was one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made, and he prayed silently that it wouldn't cost him the true love of his life.

Having left his own car at the house, Frank accepted the offer of officer Jacobs, who, for the time being, was assigned as Callie's guard anyway, to drive them home. _Home. _That word had changed for him so much over time. It had gone from the house he had grown up in, to a dorm room at college, to an apartment and, finally, to this new house he had bought last year with Callie on the outskirts of Bayport. Since they had both attended college on scholarships and tuition had thus been essentially free, each had a good amount of money set aside for the future. When he had asked Callie to be his wife, it had seemed practical to buy a house rather than to waste money on apartment rent. While Callie still lived at home, Frank had moved into the house and they both spent countless hours there, fixing it up and preparing to move in right after their wedding. The idea that he could officially carry Callie over the threshold for the first time as his wife, when they would both stay there permanently, was exciting to both of them.

Frank swallowed the lump forming in his throat as he tightened his arm around Callie and gently kissed the top of her head. Memories kept coming at him faster and faster, flooding him. He hoped he didn't drown in them. They had had so many "firsts" together, had grown up together in so many ways. They had stuck by each other with a fierce loyalty and love, and never—never—had he doubted that she was the woman for him. Her contagious laughter, generous nature, and total and complete faith in him had made him a better person, and he realized a long time ago that there was nothing he could ever want more. Callie had done the one thing that no one else ever had; she had given him total freedom, trusting that he would do the right thing and never hurt her. The thought that she might now be regretting that action, that he had irreparably shaken her trust in him, tore at his heart.

Frank knew he was always reliable and steady and that people depended on him to be strong, not to let life shake him and to be a role model for being… well, just a good person. Sometimes the pressure had been too much, and he had felt like cracking, but he never had. Even with Joe--especially with Joe-- he held back a little bit, knowing that although his brother was his best friend, he had to keep enough of a distance that he could still be the model brother who Joe could look up to. With Callie, he also held back just a small part of him, knowing he needed to be strong for her, never to let her down. If someone were really to know him, totally, that person would have to piece together what Joe and what Callie knew of him separately.

Letting out a small sigh, he realized he had spent his whole life trying to make the two people whom he loved the most secure in him, pledging that he would never let them down. They thought he was strong; perfect in many ways. Yet he knew, more than anything else, that they were HIS strength, HIS models for behavior. He couldn't stand the idea that he had broken their faith in him in some way by such a stupid action.

_No use whining about it_, he knew. He'd make this better. He'd have to. He pushed back the thought, the frightening thought, that he wasn't the one in power to make that decision.

Before Frank knew it, he realized that they had stopped in front of their house, and officer Jacobs was waiting patiently for them to step out of the car.

"I'll be outside if you need me," he said, turning to Frank. "I'm on duty for the rest of the day if you need something."

Thanking him, Frank got out and walked to the other side of the car, opening the door for Callie. Gently placing a hand of the small of her back, he escorted her to the front door and watched as she wordlessly made her way into the living room and sat on the couch. Following her, Frank sat beside her, waiting for her to speak, sensing that she needed some time to gather her thoughts.

Finally, looking up at him, she gave him a small smile. "So…." She hesitated, then continued, "here we are. I'm glad you're okay. I was worried about you last night."

Taking her hand, Frank could barely meet her eyes. After what he had to discuss with her, she was expressing her concern for him. He'd spoken with Callie at length last night, before his talk with Joe this morning, and had told her everything that they had discovered and the general feeling that there was only one suspect on the loose, and that he, presumably, would want to try to avoid Bayport. Logically, everything made sense, and he had wanted desperately to believe that it would be okay, especially after hearing the relief in her voice. The thought of something happening to Callie was incomprehensible to him. Still, he knew that hurt came in many forms, and that he had been the cause of some of it.

"Cal," he found himself responding, "I'm sorry."

He watched her reaction closely. She seemed genuinely puzzled.

"For what?" she asked, sincerely. "I think you and Joe have done a great job with everything."

For one instant, he harbored the hope that maybe he had been wrong, that Callie didn't know about Nancy. But seeing her posture, just way that she didn't settle into his arms or speak without the slightest bit of hesitation, made him know that he wasn't wrong. He couldn't believe that she hadn't said anything yet. Then again, he noted, maybe she couldn't. _Maybe it's up to me._

Taking a deep breath, he knew that the only thing he could do was to get it over with. God, he hated himself for having to put her through this pain. He knew, though, if he didn't do it now, the distance could grow so fast so quickly that he could never get it back.

_Be strong. _"I wanted to talk to you about the other day," he began, squeezing her hand. "I… I made a terrible mistake..." He stammered, searching for the right words.

"Oh." The color rushed to Calllie's cheeks, but she looked up, indignant, and met his eye_s_ without wavering. "What would that be?"

Frank realized at once that she was going to make him say it out loud. For an instant, he became resentful, but then, when he saw the look on her face, that behind the cool facade her eyes were filled with fear, his resolve faded at once and his heart ached. Knowing that he owed her whatever it was that she wanted, he went on, feeling each word jabbing at him like a knife.

"When Nancy and I almost kissed." Hearing the words out loud, he realized what an idiot he sounded like.

"Oh," Callie repeated again, this time her voice faltering a bit when she spoke. Removing her hands from Frank's, she replied, "That."

Sensing that she wasn't going to say anything more, Frank paused for a moment. Things had never been awkward between them; it was a first, _another one _he thought sadly, and he didn't know how to play his cards. Then, it hit him—this wasn't a game, a chess match that he could think and outmaneuver his partner. This was life, and the woman he loved so much was sitting in front of him, in pain that he had caused. For once, he let his heart rule…

"Callie," he started, knowing that as badly as he wanted to hold her, he had to give her some distance here. "I made a mistake," he repeated. "A horrible, terrible mistake. There's no excuse for it. I love YOU. I want YOU. And I can only say that I am so sorry and ask for forgiveness." There- it was out.

Callie stood suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself. Frank realized at once that she was trembling, and, when she spoke, he could hear the tears in her voice. "Why? Why, Frank? I don't understand." It was all she could do to hold back the tears.

"I don't know," he managed. "I honestly don't know." He didn't know if he had felt more ashamed in his life.

"Well that's not good enough!" Callie blurted out, shaking visibly now as the tears started their descent. "I LOVE you, Frank. That hasn't changed. But… but…" She faltered, searching for words, "But how can I TRUST you?! Never in my life did I doubt you. All those years…" Trying to regain her composure Callie took a sobbing breath inward before continuing. "All of those years when you were on cases, all over the world… college… trips with your friends… bachelor parties... " She choked on her words. "Were those all lies? Did I trust you for no reason? Did you cheat on me before?"

Shocked into silence and horrified by her words, Frank could only stammer… "No, Callie… Of course not!" before he was cut off.

"OF COURSE NOT!" Callie sobbed sarcastically, gesticulating wildly, angrily. "That would presume that you still haven't given me reason to doubt you. When you kissed Nancy…"

"I didn't actually kiss her…" he began, and the moment he said it he wanted to take it back. Callie's eyes lit up.

"Does it matter?!" she yelled. "What's the difference?! If you kissed her, or held her, or… slept with her… what the HELL is the difference?" she hissed.

Finally, the fight seemed to leave her and she slumped back into the sofa, weakly, shaking. She held up a finger to stop him from moving. Eyes red-rimmed and bright with tears, she whispered, "You don't get it."

"What?" Frank responded, wanting to hold her, to take away her pain. "God, Callie, I'm so sorry…"

"Well, that's not good enough," she managed. Gently, she reached up and touched his cheek. "You don't understand. No matter what you did or didn't do with Nancy, it makes me doubt everything else. It's bad enough I saw what I saw… and I'm not talking about the 'kiss', Frank. " She took a trembling breath and tried to explain. "It's the way you looked at her, like… like…" Finally, she found the right word. "Like she MATTERED. Like she was RELEVANT. Like you WANTED her." Finally, she finished. "And I thought you only felt that way about me. I never doubted, for a split second, that anyone else would see that side to you."

An idea came to her as she watched Frank's expression. "I only felt that way once about someone else, in college, but I let it go for you."

The expression of utter shock and horror on Frank's face said it all. His mouth dropped and he was clearly trying to process what she had said.

Perfect.

"See?!" She stood up again. "Stop trying to THINK about that, Frank. FEEL. You know what I just told you wasn't true, right? There's never been anyone for me but YOU." She swallowed hard. "But in that second I told you that, that tiny, insubstantial millisecond, didn't you feel your heart just stop? Didn't you get a chill?"

The look on his face said it all as he felt his own eyes burn with tears that he fought to hold back. She was right. And she couldn't have said it, made him see it, any better. NOW he understood.

Instinct took over. Standing up, he pulled Callie into his arms and held her tighter than he had in a long, long time. He felt her shaking, and was more grateful than she would ever know that she allowed him to hold her. It was more than he deserved.

"I'm a fool," he told her, softly, after several minutes. He felt wholly open and vulnerable for the first time in his life. Now Callie saw him—all of him. And he was okay with it.

Finally, she backed out of his arms and, taking his hand, led him to sit down.

"No," Callie said at length. "You ACTED like one. But I need to know some things Frank. Don't think; just answer. Got it?"

"I do." He nodded.

"Those other times in the past—have you ever cheated on me with anyone other than Nancy?" The fear in her eyes betrayed the bravado in her voice.

Heart aching for what he'd done to her, he held her hand. "No."

"With Nancy? Did you ever cheat on me with her?"

Fighting his own tears, he nodded. "I have."

Callie's face drained of color, but, still, somehow she had known it was true. As deeply as she hurt, she was grateful, at last, for finally having the truth. Still, she couldn't talk.

"But," Frank continued, reaching out to tilt her face up to meet his, "It was a long time ago. Years, in fact. It happened twice. And nothing more than a kiss went on." He added the last part, knowing Callie needed to know that. "But it was still wrong. I know it. I can't justify it, or excuse it, or pretend that I know why it happened. She is my friend, Callie. That's it. And if you don't want me to ever speak to her again, then I won't. Period."

Callie, unable to look at him any longer, leaned into him and buried her face in his chest. Finally, she spoke, muffled, "I'm not going to ask you to do that for me. It's a choice you have to make. If I trust you, I trust you, no matter who you talk to.'

Frank was amazed. After everything, she had given him his freedom back, though he no longer really wanted it. Running his fingers through her hair, he was at a loss for words.

"You know how Vanessa would respond to that question about Nancy, don't you?" She smiled at the thought despite herself.

"I do," Frank replied, half-grinning, half actually frightened at the idea.

"Are we okay, then?" he finally asked.

Callie looked up. "I think so." She smiled wanly, wearily. Savoring the moment and relishing the look of complete adoration and relief on Frank's face, she took a moment before it hit her. "Hey!" she asked, sitting back.

Surprised, Frank responded, "THAT was a change! What's up?"

"How did you even know that I KNEW about Nancy?"

At the same time, they both answered. "Joe".

"Don't be mad at him," Frank mentioned, eager to defend his brother. After all, it had been Joe who had given him the good swift kick he'd needed to probably save his relationship with Callie.

Callie shook her head and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ears. "I'm not," she answered. "I'm really not." With a small chuckle, Callie added, "You know, he's the reason I didn't kick your butt in the first place."

"I heard," Frank smiled back. "He's on team Callie, by the way."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Never mind!" Frank answered, reaching over and kissing her deeply. He found himself thinking—no, feeling—that if it was possible for a heart to literally burst with joy, that's what would happen now.

"By the way…" Callie murmured.

"Shhh…" Frank stopped her, about to kiss her again.

"No, seriously," Callie managed, breathless, reluctantly moving back from Frank.

"Yes?" he replied, wondering what could be so important as to interrupt their miraculous reunion.

"Speaking of Joe, where is he? Didn't he say he'd call you close to an hour ago? I hope he's okay."

Despite himself, and for no reason whatsoever, Frank got an icy chill down his spine. "Yeah, me too…"

He stood up and vanished into the kitchen. Looking after him. Callie felt a chill, too—and knew that something was very, very wrong…


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed! Violetsunshine, fandemonium, Helen, Reney, Roswalun, Kimmey, franknjoe, and of course Phoenix and Red... I have read and appreciated your comments so much! :) Hope you continue to enjoy the story_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 15

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

Vanessa opened her eyes, immediately realizing that she must have fallen asleep with Joe on the sofa. Within seconds, she managed to ascertain that she'd only been resting for a half hour… and that someone was knocking on the door.

"That's weird," she whispered to no one in particular. "Where's the cop?" Carefully moving herself up as not to disturb Joe, Vanessa made her way to the door, nervously. Peering through the peephole, she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that it was just Officer Daley, and that he was signaling her to open the door.

"Hi," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm dying here! Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

"No! Of course not!" Vanessa answered with a smile. "Come on in! I had a mini panic attack there," she added. "I was wondering where you'd gone."

"Oh… well, I'm here." His voice held a nervous, embarrassed even, tone to it. It seemed to Vanessa that this Officer felt ill at ease for some reason. Whether his demeanor was a result of being assigned to a case where he was essentially a bodyguard, or because he simply felt silly asking the person that he was supposed to protect for a favor, was unclear.

After a moment of awkward silence, the officer continued. "Um…."

Realizing that she was essentially blocking his way, Vanessa hurriedly ushered him into the apartment. "Sorry," she continued. "Down the hall, second door on the left," she finished, gesturing with her hand the direction that he should follow.

With a polite smile, the officer tipped his hat and, with a soft "thank you very much," he followed Vanessa's direction into the apartment.

Vanessa watched the officer disappear down the hallway and, stretching, she took a seat at the kitchen table. Before she sat down, though, she caught sight of Joe and instantly felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Unable to help herself, she couldn't tear her eyes off him. Instantly, she felt herself slip into reverie.

She and Joe had been together for a long time now, and it was still hard to believe that each day she found her love for him grow stronger. Somehow, Joe had won her heart in their youth, despite her best efforts to hold onto it. When they had met in high school, she had been a quiet, relatively guarded teen who, new to Bayport High, had tried really hard to keep to herself. That is, until the school hunk and relentless flirt, Joe Hardy, had managed to keep her from anonymity.

To all appearances, Joe was outgoing, funny, at times obnoxious, and, above all, a ladies man. She, on the other hand, was soft-spoken, scholarly and driven, and somewhat of a homebody. _More like Frank than Joe_, she had to admit. Now, that thought often made her laugh, because as much as she cared about Frank, it had taken Joe to make her realize that she was nothing like him.

Slowly, taking his time and expending his energy carefully, Joe had managed to worm his way into her heart and make her see her as HE did; and she had never felt so beautiful. Joe had made her realize her true potential; that she had been hiding behind a façade as a defense mechanism to prevent getting hurt. Ever since her father had died, that persona had worked for her. Once Joe captured her heart, though, and promised to protect her and never let her get hurt, she had slowly come to believe him… And he had kept that promise.

As the years went by, Vanessa came to know a part of Joe that rarely anyone saw. His sincerity, loyalty, honesty, and intelligence were paralleled by almost no one. Still, he remained a little wild and reckless, a little bit of a bad boy despite everything good he had done. Above all, he was so much fun! And he had made her realize that it was okay to loosen up; to be a little dangerous. It was fun to let loose and to go out as much as it was to stay at home. He had encouraged her always to speak her mind, _a decision_, Vanessa couldn't help but to smile, _that he probably lives to regret every day_! More than anything else, though, Joe had taught her to love herself and to trust again.

Although she knew that Joe loved her completely, occasionally she still felt pangs of jealousy when she realized that she had not been his first love. Iola Morton had held that spot and, despite the passage of time, Vanessa knew that Joe could never fully forget her. Occasionally, he would reveal to her that Iola's death often saved his own life; that he believed that she was a guardian angel looking down on him. It was through her tragic death that Joe learned always to rely on his instinct, and never to let his guard down. Her death had changed him forever. Still, when Joe saw the expression that she must have shown in her eyes, however guiltily, when he spoke of Iola, he had told her, simply and in his own way, "She was my first love, Van—but you'll be my last." Looking now at him sleeping so peacefully, she couldn't help but to long for forever; she honestly didn't know what she would do without him.

"Uh… thanks."

Vanessa inadvertently jumped and felt the color rush to her face as she realized the officer had returned from the bathroom and was staring at her, unwilling to disturb her as she daydreamed.

"Oh!" Vanessa said, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm so sorry. I guess you caught me… thinking."

"No problem, ma'am," he replied. Vanessa noticed that the officer looked unsure of what to do or say next, but there was something about him that caught her eye. He was a little older than her, probably in his early 30s, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. She didn't know if it was because she felt safe in the presence of an officer, or if it was because she wanted details on the case, or even if she just wanted company waiting for Joe to wake up, but, despite the safety issues involved, she didn't feel like pushing the officer out the door.

"Vanessa."

"Excuse me?" The officer looked puzzled.

"You can call me Vanessa. I'm a little too young for ma'am," she answered.

The officer smiled. "Well, Vanessa, it's nice to meet you, since I've been assigned to watch you. If you'd like me to call you by your first name, you've got it," he replied. His voice was soft, accented by a persistent cough. When he noticed Vanessa looking inquiringly at him, he apologized. "Sorry. I've had this stupid cough for a while now. The only thing that seems to help is tea. But…" He looked towards the door. "I guess I should get going. You know—look out for the usual suspects." He gave a small wink, which Vanessa wasn't quite sure how to take.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked, trying to be polite.

He looked into the kitchen longingly. "I... Well, I don't want to make you go to any trouble."

"Don't be silly, Officer Daley, " Vanessa responded. "It'll just take a few minutes. Do you—want to wait outside? Or stay in here?"

"John."

"Hmmmm?" Vanessa couldn't make out how she felt about him. Even though he seemed perfectly nice, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something a little off. This scenario, she knew, was perfectly innocent, but she knew enough from Joe's escapades to realize that people in law enforcement were supposed to do their jobs objectively, and that often meant no interaction with ordinary civilians, particularly those involved in a case.

Still, almost at the same time, she knew that he was young and might be new to the force, and that Joe was right there with her. At that realization, she was instantly comforted.

"You can call me John," he repeated, coughing again. He looked at the ground, shyly. "If you want to, I mean… seeing as though you said I could call you Vanessa. Heck…" he added, slowly looking around, "I might be assigned to watch Callie Shaw tomorrow—who knows? It's just nice to be treated good by a nice girl. I'm awfully sorry about everything you went through, by the way," he added, again coughing.

"Oh," Vanessa replied. Inwardly, she was a little conflicted as to whether this guy was a little weird or just plain shy. "Yeah, sure. My pleasure. I'll… uh… get the tea."

Following her into the kitchen, he sat down at the table as Vanessa brought out the teapot and the water began to boil.

"You know," he said, after a pause, still looking around. "I… I guess you think I'm a little weird. I'm sorry."

Startled, Vanessa stammered, "No. No, of course not. Thanks for watching me. It's, uh—nice to know that there's protection for me, even if there's only one guy left out there." Inadvertently, she shuddered.

"Aw," he managed, then coughed again. "I think you'll be okay. That guy is probably as far away from Bayport as possible. Plus, they got the other suspect, right? It's a pretty cut and dry case."

"Yeah. That's what they say, anyhow," Vanessa replied, unsure of how to take this conversation.

Finally, he met her eyes, albeit briefly, then looked down again. "I want to explain," he finally managed. "You know, about my comment. I don't mean to be weird or anything. It's just that I recently broke up with my girlfriend, and I've been out of the dating scene for a while." He gave a short laugh before continuing. "Do you know I tried to think of a witty comment to say to you as I left the bathroom because I was embarrassed to even have to ask you? And all I could think of was something along the lines of, you know—my name is John, and I'm coming from the john, and..." he stopped as he noticed the expression on Vanessa's face.

Standing, he finally smiled and spoke, sheepishly. "I'm not doing anything to make myself seem less weird, am I?" he commented.

Despite herself, Vanessa laughed. "No, not really."

"I'll wait outside. Let me just run down to the patrol car and grab some donuts." He held up a hand. "Don't say anything, please," he said with a smile. "I just thought it would go well with the tea, if you wouldn't mind sending it out in about five minutes."

Easing up, Vanessa replied, "Sure," beginning to feel like officer John was nothing more than a little awkward and feeling grateful that her man was considerably more suave than him. Still, she felt a little bad for him; she knew what it was like to feel like a loner, and made a decision to try and be more friendly to him.

After several minutes, Vanessa heard the familiar whistle of the tea pot from the kitchen. Grabbing a cup, she filled it up and opened the door. THAT is when her hell began.

As soon as she opened the door and shut it softly behind her, she felt someone grab her from behind and shove her against the wall, pounding her head savagely against the brick. She would have screamed, had not a hand covered her mouth and blackness swim in front of her eyes, adding more to the confusion. The tea flew everywhere, scalding her hand as she struggled to break free.

"Now you're mine," she heard a voice whisper in her ear, hot and raspy.

Shaking, Vanessa tried desperately to get her bearings, to call out to Joe, to make some sense of what was happening. She felt a hand reach under her blouse, trying to tear it. At that very moment, she felt her world was going to end. In the back of her mind, she knew only seconds had passed, but time seemed to stand still.

Then, in what could only be a blessing from above, she felt herself slammed against her apartment door and the hand reached from around her to open it. _He wants to get IN,_ she managed to realize. _Oh God, Joe. Help me._

The door crashed open with a sickening thud.

Joe, sleeping soundly, jumped up, awakened, heart pounding wildly in his chest. "What the hell?" he stammered, shaking his head to clear the fog. In an instant, the one thing he saw was Vanessa being shoved to the ground and some guy, dressed in black, almost on top of her. At the sight of Joe, he seemed to freeze and looked as startled as Joe felt.

At once, Joe bolted from the couch, fire in his eyes.

Time seemed to freeze.

The guy, from nowhere, pulled out a gun, and aimed it straight at Joe, while still trying to keep a semi-conscious Vanessa on the ground.

In one instant, the gun was up and pointed.

In the next, Joe caught sight of… a police officer?… running into the room, gun drawn, shouting.

Joe got up to move.

Then, there was a hail of bullets flying, fire and ice and hell suspended in time.

He knew it was going to happen before it actually did.

There was a burst of incredible pain.

And then…

Nothing.


	16. Chapter 16

_Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! They make me smile! I read every one and appreciate you all so much! I'd also like to thank my buddy "Red", without whom there would be no chapter here, as she has shown me how to maneuver this site and how to upload things properly. Thanks, bud! :)_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 16

As Frank drove hurriedly to the hospital, he tried to fight the panic in his heart as he vehemently concentrated on the road in front of him. For once, he wasn't worried about staying in the parameters of the speed limit or obeying the laws of traffic. He had one goal only, and that was to get to his destination as fast as humanly possible. The fact that Officer Jacobs was leading him in a police escort was certainly helpful. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe correctly, and he tried to make himself take controlled breaths and to arrive at some sort of peace. It wasn't working.

He had received the call from his father only twenty minutes earlier and he was still trying to process everything that had been said. From what he could gather in the rushed conversation, he knew only that there had been an attack on both Joe and Vanessa, and that Charlie Hughes, the lone suspect still at large, was apparently the perpetrator. Everything else was still a blur. Why Hughes returned, what happened, what the role of Officer Daley had been… they were all important questions, but right now he didn't care about the answers. All he knew was that he had to make sure that Joe and Vanessa were all right. Still, all he kept hearing in his mind was the undertone of panic in his father's voice on the phone that he had tried valiantly, though unsuccessfully, to disguise.

Looking at the clock on the dashboard, he knew that he less than five minutes to go until he'd arrive. _But what will I find when I get there? _He swallowed the lump in his throat that was beginning to form and tried to maintain a steady composure. Next to him, in the passenger seat, Callie was looking out the window, too, trying not to make eye contact with him. Taking a sidelong glance at her, he immediately noticed that her breathing was a little unsteady as well; she was trying not to cry; to be strong for him.

Reaching over, he covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew that he had to hold it together for her… for his father… for himself. Almost instantly she took his hand and squeezed it back. All the while they remained in silence, and Frank had a momentary sense of confusion as to who was actually comforting whom.

As they finally arrived in front of the hospital, officer Jacobs pulled aside and motioned for Frank to pull into the adjacent parking lot.

"I'll do it. Give me the keys. Go." It was Callie, answering a question that he knew he hadn't even needed to ask.

"Thanks," he replied, relieved. "I'll… I'll be in…" He tried to think of where he was headed; his mind was whirling.

"I'll find you," she cut him off. "Go with the officer now." Getting out of the car, she and Frank were about to switch places when she paused briefly and met his eyes. "It's gonna be okay," she whispered, reaching up to touch his face. Motioning in the direction of the awaiting officer, she motioned. "Go."

Nodding, Frank followed the officer to the awaiting elevator and made his way onto it. Watching the numbers climb slowly to the top, he couldn't help but to wonder if they were going excruciatingly slow or unbelievably fast… if he wanted to really know what could possibly change his life forever.

As soon as the doors opened, he saw a handful of people in the waiting room. There was Andrea, Vanessa's mother, on a cell phone, several police officers, including a young looking, slightly familiar one, covered with some blood, Chief Collig, and, most importantly, his father. By instinct, he looked for his mother before realizing immediately that she had gone to visit her best friend in Vermont only days ago. Timing seemed to be very off lately.

"Dad!" Frank called, running over to him. "What happened? Is Joe…"

"He's okay," Fenton replied, giving Frank a quick hug in greeting and immediately ushering him to the corner of the room. In the same instant, he motioned for Chief Collig to follow him.

"What about Vanessa?" Frank asked again, hoping against hope that somehow everything would be all right.

"She's okay, too," Fenton replied, motioning for Frank to have a seat. Following suit, both he and Chief Collig gathered at the corner of the room. "As a matter of fact," Fenton continued, "I just found out that Joe is out of surgery and he's okay. The doctor is going to update us as soon as he can. Vanessa is in the process of being released. She's already given her statement to the police officers; from what I understand, she's been waiting in the room that they're taking Joe into. Even though she's signed the paperwork to leave, I don't think she's going anywhere." He managed a small smile. "She's quite a girl."

Frank let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"I know," Fenton replied, looking at his eldest son and momentarily feeling at a loss for words. "I know."

He patted Frank's arm gently, needing to know that he could ensure that both of his children would be okay. No matter hold old they got, or how much he respected them as detectives and grown men, they were always his little boys.

Frank, who had always been in tune with his father, even more so than Joe had been, picked up on what his dad was thinking at once. "Maybe we should have listened when you told me to be an accountant and Joe to play pro baseball," he managed to weakly joke. Leaning his head back, he stared at the ceiling, relief flooding over him for a moment. Finally, he sat back up.

"So what happened?" he asked.

"That's why I'm here, Frank." Chief Collig, who had been intentionally silent until this point, giving Frank and Fenton a moment, finally spoke. Frank noted at once that Collig's tone was more gentle and considerably devoid of the anger that it had been just this morning. _Has it been only today? Could all of this be happening in a span of hours? _Suddenly, Frank felt very, very tired, but he leaned in, eager to know how his brother had ended up here, to try and figure out an ending to all that had happened.

"In a nutshell," Collig recounted, looking first at Fenton and then at Frank, "Officer Daley was assigned to watch Vanessa and Joe, as Officer Jacobs was assigned to watch you and Callie. Everything was going according to schedule when, for some inexplicable reason, Officer Daley entered Joe and Vanessa's apartment, apparently to procure some tea for a persistent cough he's been having."

Fenton raised his eyebrows.

"I know," Collig replied. "Not exactly according to procedure. But…" he paused a brief moment to make his next point, "Let's not attack him yet. He's the reason Joe and Vanessa are here."

"Go on," Fenton encouraged.

"In any case, he also inexplicably left for approximately ten minutes. His story is corroborated by Vanessa."

"Why?" Frank couldn't help but to cut in. "If he was supposed to be there the whole time, why would he possibly leave?"

Color rose in Collig's face. "To get doughnuts."

Frank felt the anger he didn't know he'd been feeling begin to surface. "You mean that my little brother is in the hospital, who knows how badly hurt, and his girlfriend was attacked, because he wanted… DOUGHNUTS?!" His voice was rising and he was eliciting a few stares from the opposite corner of the room.

"Frank… let Ezra finish, please." Fenton spoke calmly, years of experience working on his side, but inside he understood, and agreed with, Frank's reaction.

"Thank you," Collig replied evenly. "When he returned, he found the door to the apartment opened and he heard a commotion inside. According to Vanessa, and I am sure you'll ask her yourself, knowing you," he went on pointedly, "she had exited the apartment to give the tea to John… Officer Daley… when she was attacked. She states that as soon as she entered the hallway a man grabbed her and attempted what looked to be a sexual assault."

Frank felt his face drain of color and started to speak when he was cut off by the Chief, who seemed to know what he was about to say.

"Thankfully," Collig continued, "The assault attempt was unsuccessful. Vanessa was injured in the attack, though, and didn't have a clear view of what was happening. She does remember that Hughes wanted to go INSIDE the apartment-- thank God, that was her saving grace. Apparently, at the noise they made at entry, Joe, who'd been sleeping, was instantly awakened. Obviously, he went to try and protect Vanessa. But Hughes had a gun, and was planning to use it. That's what officer Daley saw at his return. He yelled for Hughes to drop the gun, but he didn't… and he started shooting. Daley shot back. He's over there in the corner—look—" The Chief motioned—"And he's the hero now who saved Joe and Vanessa's lives. The paramedics were called via radio… and now we're here," he concluded.

"Well, why did Hughes start shooting?" Frank asked. Too much about this story wasn't making any sense.

"Because a cop was in the room," Collig replied in a slightly condescending tone, as though it was the most stupid question in the world.

Frank felt the heat rush to his face. He didn't know if it was because he was exhausted from lack of sleep or because he was sick with worry, but he suddenly didn't care what the Chief thought of him. The story – the whole scenario—didn't make sense, and he knew it, even if no one acknowledged it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the expression on his dad's face, though, and he KNEW that his dad saw it, too.

"Ezra," Fenton cut in. "You know we go back a long time. I've worked with you professionally for a quarter of a century, and you've been a friend longer than that. Frank asked a valid question, and I have quite a few myself." He met Collig's eye with an unwavering stare. "This case is open; it is NOT closed. I plan on closing it. So—you can work with me or against me. What will it be?"

Frank was taken aback by this side to his father. There was "Dad," but there was also professional Fenton. With a small smile, he recognized that neither one of them was to be fooled with.

For several minutes, there was a tension- filled silence as the two old friends, on opposite sides it seemed, stared at each other, neither one backing down.

Collig honestly saw that his officer, though he made a few mistakes, was a hero. The rape/ murder cases were now closed. They had a confession by Jimmy Dee, incontrovertible DNA evidence that he had been involved with all of the crimes. There were only two other suspects. Roger Timms was dead. John Daley, the rookie officer, had killed Charlie Hughes, the lone assailant still at large, in Joe and Vanessa's apartment. In all his years of service, he'd learned one thing above all… 99.9 of the time, pieces of the puzzle came together and fit—even if some were a tighter squeeze than others. This, he reluctantly had to admit, was a very tight squeeze.

Looking at Fenton, though, he knew it was HIS job to deal with the .01 of the time when things didn't fit. And he'd be damned if he couldn't admit that Fenton… and later, his boys…. always seemed to find those needles in haystacks.

He could hear his supervisor's voice… _waste of taxpayer money. DNA evidence can't be wrong. I thought you'd have become smarter in all of these years… _Besides, did he REALLY want to get involved in a case that would probably end up at the same conclusion anyway?

Then he thought of his own daughter. What if something had happened to her? Could he live with himself if he didn't check out all of the possibilities that he could be wrong, even if there didn't seem to be any chance at all of that happening? Looking at Fenton, he allowed himself to be reminded that he was a former cop, an honorable man, and he wouldn't lead the department on a wild goose chase for nothing. Plus, he knew that Fenton had just seen two important young women in his life become terrorized, had almost lost his son….

He knew what he had to do.

"Go see your boy," he huffed, gruffly.

Some officers left the room, presumably to finish their paperwork and head back to the station, creating a temporary diversion from the standoff.

"I'll meet you in his room in an hour."

Pursing his lips, Fenton nodded in thanks, unable to find the words to express his gratitude to this man who was going against everything he believed in and putting his neck on the line, simply because he had faith in Fenton's ability to do the right thing.

Collig turned away and left the room.

"I guess that's the end, then," Frank spoke up, seeing the doctor in the hallway, motioning for them to come forward. "He's with us."

"Son," Fenton replied, putting an arm around Frank's shoulders, "I think it's just the beginning."


	17. Chapter 17

_Thanks again for your reviews! :) From the next chapter on, the actual mystery really picks up speed. Hope you all enjoy the weekend!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 17

Vanessa stood outside Joe's room, trying as hard as she could to peek in. He had just been brought up after having come out of surgery, and she found herself barely being able to breathe waiting to see him. As he had been wheeled into the room on a stretcher, she caught only the faintest glimpse of him, and how he had looked--pale, bandaged, attached to IV's—was enough to almost make her pass out. She knew that only immediate family was being let in, but she didn't care; no one would stop her from seeing Joe.

Trying to make herself less conspicuous, she wandered briefly down the hall, far enough to keep an eye on his room and also just far enough to make her appearance less noticeable. _That's a joke, _she thought, trying to not choke as emotions fought their way to the surface. _How could they NOT notice me?_

Hand shaking, she reached into her jean pocket and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her eyes and the tears at their corners. God, this had been the worst day of her life. After the attack, she could barely concentrate on what had been going on. She heard gunshots, saw Joe fall… and then she must have passed out, unable to bear the sight, the thought, that her boyfriend was gone.

She was awakened, she didn't know how much later, in a hospital room. Somehow, she had gotten there. Her head ached, her hand throbbed from, she later realized, where the hot tea had scalded it. But she was here, and she was alive. But it was only if Joe was alive and okay, too, that she knew that her life would still be worth living.

In what seemed like hours, she had been "treated" and dismissed with the warnings of what to look out for. She had a mild concussion, but the terrible bruising and cuts on her face looked a lot worse than they actually were. Still, she had bandages covering her right cheek and chin, and a huge white gauze pad over her right temple. That, along with the wrap on her wrist, made her feel like a walking mummy. Or maybe one of those toilet paper brides that got wrapped up at bridal showers and had to be unceremoniously touted around in the "best dress". She had been planning to suitably mortify Callie and had once giggled at the thought of it. Now, realizing what she looked like and what she had been through, she wondered if she would find anything funny ever again.

Even after she'd been released, she couldn't find any peace. No one would tell her anything about Joe or what had happened, and she had been interviewed—more like descended upon—by what seemed like every detective on the Bayport police force. Well, not every detective; hers was still missing, and she desperately needed to find him. It had only been through a series of lies and some investigation of her own, along with a phone call to her mom, who DID know what was going on, that she had procured Joe's room number. Her mother, always understanding, had told her to go see him, even before she, herself, could see Vanessa. She knew the pain of losing someone she had once loved as well.

Now, amid strange glances that the nurses had given her, she tried to be as subtle as she possibly could, looking as conspicuous as she knew that she did. When a particularly irritating nurse looked about to call security, she had told them that she was Joe's sister, and that they had been involved in an accident together. Thanking God silently for the lack of communication in hospitals, the nurse finally let her stay, but she didn't know how long her luck was going to last.

Seeing several doctors and nurses finally exit Joe's room, she moved, painfully slowly, towards it. At that moment, she saw the elevator door open with Frank and Fenton standing there, waiting to exit.

Fenton saw her first. Rushing towards Joe's room with Frank at his heels, he stopped quickly, grabbed Vanessa, ignoring how terrible she looked, and hugged her to him. Motioning Frank with one arm to enter Joe's room, he saw his eldest son disappear. He felt Vanessa trembling, tears on his shirt, as she clung to him tightly. "It's okay," he said softly to her. "Joe's okay."

"Ahem."

Annoyed, Fenton glanced over his shoulder at the nurse who was staring at him.

"Yes?" he managed, still holding on to Vanessa.

"Mr. Hardy, Joseph's father, I presume?"

"Yes," he answered again, trying to maintain his composure. He desperately wanted to see Joe, to make sure he was all right; and, at the same time, he needed to comfort Vanessa, to ensure her safety, physically and emotionally, as well.

The nurse nodded toward Vanessa, seemingly a bit confused, as though she was trying to prove a point, but was waning in her resolve. "She says she's your daughter." She awaited a response.

Furious, Fenton stared at her. "Yes, she is."

And he meant it with every fiber of his being. The girl in his arms had saved his son's life once, a long time ago. She had revived his spirit, brought joy back into his life. In the years they had known each other, he knew he had become a father-figure to her, since her own father's tragic loss so long ago. She'd often, embarrassed at first, come to him for advice. Later, having developed a comfortable ease with each other, she'd tease him or get on his case about something that even his sons wouldn't dare to. As much as he loved Callie, and he did, he and Vanessa had formed a close bond. And she was as much a daughter to him now as he knew she would officially be in future years when Joe finally came to his senses and married her.

Joe. That thought brought him back to the present as the nurse slinked away. Releasing Vanessa, he gently put both his hands on the sides of her face and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. "You're okay," he said softly.

"I… I want to see Joe," she managed.

"Me, too. Let's go," he said, but paused one more instant. "Van?"

"Hmmmm?" she choked out.

"I meant what I said there. You're okay… and you're my daughter. AND…" He continued evenly, but Vanessa saw the anger in his face, heard it in his voice. "No one hurts my girl."

With that, he led Vanessa into Joe's room, needing to make sure that his boy was okay, too.

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Hours passed. Collig had come and gone, promising to return as soon as everyone was ready to help out in the case any way he could. Any residual anger he had expressed in the waiting room seemed to disappear when he caught sight of Joe… of Vanessa… and, leaving everyone to themselves, he slowly made his way out, stopping only to look at his cell phone and scroll through the numbers. When WAS the last time he had called his daughter?

Andrea Bender, Fenton's "sister," sat beside Vanessa, holding her hand. She had brought an old sweatshirt for Vanessa to wear, since her blouse was no longer in one piece. The thought of what almost happened to her baby made her angry… made her terrified. Still, she couldn't force Vanessa to go with her back to her house. Vanessa's heart, and her home, belonged elsewhere now, she noted, looking at Joe Hardy lying on the hospital bed. As visiting hours approached their close, she leaned over, hugged Vanessa tightly… and left.

Callie had managed to sneak into the room when Nurse Ratched, as she came to think of her, wasn't looking. She had done her best to comfort Frank, who seemed almost unable to speak when he looked at his brother. She'd held Vanessa as she cried, recounting everything that happened… a scene so vivid that Callie still felt sick to her stomach when she thought about it. Frank had finally fallen asleep, utterly exhausted from being up for over two days straight.

Slowly, she moved away from him, stopping only to bend down and kiss the top of his head. With a quick hug for Vanessa and Mr. Hardy, and a promise to sneak back in first thing the next day, she quietly departed, praying that with the light of morning, things would finally get better.

Fenton watched all the people who loved Joe so dearly gather around him. Vanessa looked heartbroken; Andrea looked stunned; Frank was speechless. Callie looked like she'd seen better days as well. With a deep sigh, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes, taking one last glance at Joe and wishing, more than he thought he would, that Laura was there with him. Sometimes, even he needed a little support, so that he could just concentrate on supporting everyone else.

The night dragged on.

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Haze. Confusion. Joe struggled to open his eyes, fighting the nauseating sense of dizziness that he felt. Something had happened. What? God, he was TIRED. He felt his lips move, murmuring, "_Got to sleep." _ Who he was talking to or why he was speaking, even where he was, was unclear to him. He felt himself nodding off.

Then, it hit him, raining down on him as drop by drop memories came flooding back. The case. The police station. Arguing with his brother. Laughing at the apartment. Sleep. Gunfire. Vanessa.

"Vanessa!" He gasped as he opened his eyes at once. Panicked, he looked frantically around the room. He was in a hospital; he saw it at once. There was his brother and his dad, but they weren't who he was looking for.

Then he felt it. Turning painfully to one side, he saw Vanessa's face, bandaged, tears streaming from her eyes. "Van?" he croaked.

"It's okay. WE'RE okay," she said in answer, leaning down and resting her head on his shoulder. Reaching up to stroke her hair, he could only manage, "We will be, babe."

And sleep came once more.

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Three days later, Joe was considerably better physically, although he was more fired up than he could remember. Not since Iola's death had he felt such fury; Vanessa had been hurt, and NO ONE got away with that. He'd find out what happened or he'd die trying.

Wincing, he reached down and gingerly rubbed his side. Letting out a small sigh, he leaned back against the pillows. The doctors had told him that he'd been shot in the side and had suffered some minor internal damage. The real danger had been from blood loss, but, thankfully, he had been brought to the hospital on time. He had also come perilously close to dying-- for real-- as a bullet had grazed his temple. Hughes had meant business.

Hughes. The very image conjured images for him that he could barely hold back. The thought that someone—anyone—could put his hands on Vanessa and terrorize her was enough to make him blind with rage. Over the past few days, he'd been filled in on what had happened; the role of Hughes, the role of Daley. He was still unsure of what to make of that whole thing. The guy had saved his life, risked everything to make sure that he and Vanessa were okay. At the same time, he'd almost gotten them killed by his stupidity by leaving in the first place. Still, he had to admit that everyone made mistakes, and he wanted to talk to the cop personally and thank him. He was sure he'd arrange time to do that.

Knowing he would be released in just another day with a handful of painkillers to keep him company put a small, albeit transitory, smile on his face. He was looking forward to feeling nothing for once, and he knew it was good for him-- because after a few more days, when everyone would meet and try to figure everything out again, there was no telling how much passion, how much unrelenting anger, he'd let loose.

Unlike his brother, who tried with all his might to control his anger, Joe knew that he relished his own. It drove him; it inspired him. The one thing that separated him from his brother above all else was that Frank had never experienced a loss so deep that he was forever changed. A part—a small part—of Frank, still had that innocence, that belief that everything would eventually be okay. He'd seen Frank struggle with that idea; he knew Frank knew the realities of the world and could take care of himself; he realized that Frank had seen and tangled with the bad guys on more occasions than he cared to count. Still, Frank had never lost someone he loved. Frank didn't have an Iola to inspire and to guide him. And Joe prayed he never would.

"Hey! Earth to Joe." Joe looked up and smiled. His brother was looking at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. "You okay?" he asked, having a seat on the edge of the bed.

Immediately, Joe put a hand on his head and closed his eyes. _Well, I might as well milk this for all its worth_, he thought. "Yeah… I'll make it. Do you think… you could…maybe get me some magazines, though? And this hospital food is pretty lousy." Slowly, he opened his eyes, pleased that he'd managed to illicit such a weak tone. To his surprise, Frank didn't move. He simply crossed his arms and had a strong expression of amusement on his face.

"I hadn't realized that you were paralyzed," Frank responded with a small smile.

"Oh… Oh," Joe stammered.

"Look, little brother," Frank went on, looking Joe directly in the eye. "You know I'd do anything for you. You scared the hell out of me." He paused, making sure Joe understood what he was saying. "But—in the past three days, I don't think I've ever done more errands in my life, and that INCLUDES wedding planning. So that's it! If you REALLY need something, you know I'll do it. But quit pretending that you're incapacitated."

"Sorry," Joe mumbled, embarrassed that he'd been caught. Frank could make him feel more guilty than his own dad could!

"Joe?" Frank queried.

"Yeah?"

"It's you, and normally I'd even be amused by it. But given what happened, it's not funny. It really isn't."

Joe reached over and gave Frank a pat on the arm, sitting up straighter. Despite Frank's reprimand, and firm place in big brother mode, Joe saw that Frank was really afraid, and he knew that he really had almost died. It's just that everything had been so horrible, so serious, lately, that he needed to let off some steam.

"Sorry, Frank," he replied, and he meant it.

"It's okay," Frank replied. With that, he reached behind him and threw a few magazines on Joe's bed, along with a bag from Joe's favorite deli. "Here." He said with a smile.

"How did you—" Joe began.

"I just did, Joe. That's what big brothers are for." He reached over and affectionately tousled Joe's hair like he used to when they were kids. "You're welcome."

"I guess this means you love me, huh?" Joe responded, liking to make his brother squirm.

Frank shook his head and let out a sigh. "You're okay," he said, rolling his eyes. "I just needed a best man, or the wedding party numbers would be uneven."

Joe laughed. "The horror, Frank." Then, he went on, "So I guess things worked out with Callie, huh?"

Frank blushed. "What gave you that idea? The fact that she's been to see you every day?" he asked.

"Nah—it'd be hard to stay away from me, no matter who you are. I'm a handsome guy, you know." He reached into the deli bag, took a long slurp of the soda Frank had brought him, and immediately let loose a loud belch. He smiled.

Frank sighed, happier than words to have his brother back. "Don't forget classy, Joe," he finished, good-naturedly.

The brothers spent the next few minutes chatting, trying to keep conversation light. Finally, Joe said what had been on his mind.

"So," he began, "Friday—we're all meeting. Me, you, dad, Collig…"

"Nancy," Frank added.

"But—" Joe cut in.

"Stop," Frank interjected. "Collig actually invited her in. We haven't even spoken since the last meeting."

He saw that Frank was serious; had changed. Joe nodded in silent understanding.

"Anyway," Joe continued, "I just want you to know… what they did to Van… I WILL break this case and make whoever did -- that—pay." He was surprised by the emotion he couldn't help but to show in his voice, how his voice faltered at Vanessa's name.

"No, you won't," Frank responded evenly, but deadly serious.

Shocked into silence momentarily, he heard his brother finish. "WE will make someone pay. You're not doing anything alone."

Slowly, and with unwavering determination in both of their eyes, the brothers shook hands.

It had begun.


	18. Chapter 18

_As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed the story! I know the time that you take to review and I always appreciate it! I owe a BIG thanks to my friend Red who prevented me from making a REALLY big error in this chapter and whose encouragement and honesty enabled me to be pleased with the final product! Thanks, my friend!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 18

Days later, arriving at the police station once again, Frank paused before entering the building. He motioned for his father and Joe to go ahead and meet Chief Collig, and watched as they made their way inside and headed towards the conference room. They still had another fifteen minutes before the meeting was going to begin, and he had just watched as a taxi pulled into the parking lot with Nancy inside. Before he could go into the meeting, he needed to clear the air, even temporarily.

He raised his hand in a slow wave and watched as Nancy nodded her head in silent acknowledgement. As she walked up to him, he noticed at once that she was… different. It was okay with him. He was different, too.

"Hey," he said to her. For the first time he could remember in all the years of knowing her, neither one of them exchanged a hug or quick kiss in greeting. It was awkward. Then again, he knew it would be.

"Hey yourself," she responded neutrally, meeting his eyes.

Sighing, Frank decided finally to say what he knew he had to. "Nan? Can we talk for a minute?"

"Yeah. Sure." She remained pretty quiet. "I think we NEED to talk; the both of us."

Shifting his footing, he realized he was nervous. Still, he had to be upfront. "Nan," he began, choosing his words carefully. "I've… I've basically been a jerk, and I want to apologize."

Nancy looked up, surprised. Then, unable to help herself, she responded. "I agree. BUT—" She hesitated, before continuing, "I've been one, too. I guess it takes one to know one, huh?" Her attempt at humor, even momentarily, fell flat to her own ears.

Frank smiled sympathetically, appreciating Nancy's willingness to admit her own fault in the matter. Even so, it didn't make things any easier for him. "I know. I'm… I'm sorry. I realize I haven't treated you very nicely over the past week or so, and there's no excuse for that. You know I'm… basically a good guy." He smiled slightly, hating even to be having this conversation. "But it was wrong of me not to call you, even with everything happening."

Nancy sighed. Despite everything, she still cared about Frank Hardy. Still, she'd had time to calm down, to talk to Ned, to THINK… and that distance helped to keep her emotions in check.

"Frank," she replied evenly. "IF you recall, YOU asked ME to come and help you with this case. I flew out here from River Heights. I tried to help you in any way I could. I'm so sorry about what happened to Joe… to Vanessa… and I WOULD have come to see either of them, if I thought I'd be welcome. But I'm not… and I know why." She had to stop when she felt her lower lip tremble. _Stop it, Drew_, she silently scolded herself. _You've had distance. You can DO this. _Slowly, she went on. "Listen," she sighed. "I... I guess I can't blame anyone for feeling the way that they do about me. I honestly didn't mean to come here and start any trouble. I guess given the… feelings…" she stumbled over her words, but then forced herself to carry on, "that we've had in the past about each other, that I should have realized that we're better off friends—at a distance."

Frank felt terrible. "Well, you may be right," he conceded. "But," he went on, "You are welcome. Joe got the flowers, by the way. He liked them."

Nancy gave a short laugh. "I tried. He probably thought they were poison or something, though. You don't have to lie."

Frank laughed despite himself. "No, I'm not lying. Vanessa, on the other hand…"

Slowly, Nancy smiled back before continuing. "I guess I understand why everyone hates me," she said, sadly. "I can only hope that Vanessa and Joe and especially Callie can see that I'm not…a bad girl, either." She gave a small smile, having echoed Frank's phrase. She really DID want the best for Frank, and for herself as well. And she knew, deep down, that perhaps distance was the only way to ensure the best for everyone.

Sighing, Frank answered her. "I guess you and Ned must have had a talk." He knew he didn't have to even ask if they did; it was as clear as day.

"You could call it that," she responded, more bitterly than she had intended to. Then, she got herself together. "But, in the end, we communicated—and that's more than we've done, I guess, in a while. I think we'll be all right. I have a lot to prove to him, but he's worth it to me to do that. I … I assume that you came to the same decision, huh?" Looking at him, she knew he had.

"I did," he acknowledged. "I was stupid."

"Me, too."

They paused in a silence that was beginning to once again get comfortable.

Finally, Frank broke the moment. Gently touching her arm, he said, "Before you leave, Nancy… and obviously, at this point, I don't even expect you to stay any longer… I want to talk to you—really talk to you—about everything. The past; well, it is what it is. But as for our future, as FRIENDS… I think we need to decide what to do about that. I think if we both talked to each other, about why we made our decisions, then we'll put a period on..." He fumbled for the right word. "On uncertainty. On having this--weird vibe-- between us. I don't want that. And I don't want Callie, or Ned, to have any uncertainty either." There. That had been hard, but it needed to be said.

Finally, she answered, relieved. "Deal, Hardy. But let's not—seal it with a kiss, huh?" She had to joke about it. It was too hard to think about the reality.

Laughing, Frank was about to sling an arm around her, an old habit, when he stopped himself. Instead, he gave a small smile and offered her his arm. "Let's solve this case, my friend."

"Buddy, Pal," she answered, satisfied. "Let's do it."

They entered the building.

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Inside, everyone gathered in much the same fashion as they had earlier. Fenton looked around, assessing the situation. Nancy and Frank looked eager to begin. Ezra looked… somewhere between bitter and curious. Joe, though—he had fire in his eyes, and he meant business. Fenton knew that look and it worried him. He'd seen it once before…

Deciding to take the lead, Fenton began to speak. "Okay, all. We know why we're here, but to reiterate… It looks like this case is solved, but many of us have a feeling that there's something more to it. I think what we need to do is to lay out all of the facts that we THINK we know, and then discuss why we believe there are flaws in those facts. IF we still feel uncomfortable with the outcome, then we'll have to decide what course of action to take. If not, we need to thank Chief Collig here for his patience and leave well enough alone, being grateful that… that everyone is okay." He choked up a bit, unexpectedly, on the last word as he looked at Joe who, seeing his dad's reaction, gave him a small nod back in understanding.

"Ezra?" Fenton looked at his friend. "Tell us, once again, what we know."

"Okay," Collig replied, standing up. He placed a load of files on the table at which everyone was seated. Fenton could guess at once what was in those files, and that those files had not been easy to get. Again, he was amazed by his friend's quiet support and confidence in him. Mouthing a silent "thank you," at him, Collig simply nodded back in acknowledgement.

"Let's start with the victims," Collig began.

"First, there's Leslie Smith. She was the first known victim in Bayport. We know she was killed, via stabbing, after being raped. DNA suggests that there were three attackers, a story corroborated by Vanessa, Callie, Charlotte, and Mandy—but we'll get to those reports later.

Then, the remaining girls who witnessed the crimes were threatened by one man who remained behind. These girls then apparently became the targets.

Of the remaining women, Mandy was killed and also raped, only weeks after Leslie Smith was killed. She was shot. No DNA evidence was left at the scene; the guy used protection. It seems like there was only one attacker, however, after the autopsy report came back.

Two weeks later, Charlotte is attacked. The killer actually comes into her place of work—where Vanessa works as well-- and gets her to come down to the garage, promising some sort of delivery. He must then have KNOWN that it was Charlotte's anniversary with her boyfriend, which…"

"Suggests that the killer wanted this to be personal and became familiar with the victims," Fenton finished.

"Yes," Ezra acknowledged. "To add to that, conveniently the security tapes were missing from that day, which means the attack was planned in advance and that the guy had access to the garage. In any case, Charlotte was kidnapped in a van, raped at gunpoint, and left for dead."

"But he didn't KILL her!" Joe interjected, forcefully. "And that means that he seemed to want more than… death. It's like he WANTED her to suffer... and live with that suffering. And it worked!" He knew he was getting loud, but images of Vanessa, especially, but also of Charlotte, flashed through his mind.

"Yes, again," Collig acknowledged. "His method of operation seems to have changed. Charlotte was raped, though, again by ONE MAN…and again he used protection.

Then, we get to Vanessa's attack. Charlie Hughes—we'll get to him in a minute, as I'm trying to keep the victims to themselves, first—attacked her. Again, it looks like an attempted rape. Again, he was vigilant about security; tapes are missing as well from the apartment building security files. This attempt, though, was foiled when John Daley came in and shot and killed Hughes, effectively ending the attacks. And sparing Callie Shaw, thankfully."

Frank shuddered at the thought. Joe saw it, and was thankful, again, that his brother would never have to go through what he had been through with Iola… and now Vanessa.

"Okay," Frank cut in, trying to erase the image of Callie that Collig had just created in his mind. "So there are the victims. What do we know about the three guys? Let's review that… then we can start shooting holes in this 'rock solid' case."

"You're damned right," Joe added, agreeing with his brother.

"Boys," Fenton cut in, exasperated, "Stop jumping to conclusions! Ideally, we're wrong and this case is closed. I WANT everyone who has done this to be either dead or in jail, so let's hope that's exactly what happened. Honestly, do I think that's the case? No—or I wouldn't be here right now. Still, let's make some sense of this, and then maybe we can all move on, and we'll all feel better that justice has been done and that both Vanessa, and Callie, are still safe. Got it?"

Realizing that they'd gotten so caught up in everything, Frank and Joe admitted that their father was right. "Go on." Frank spoke for both of them.

"All right," the Chief continued. " So now we get to why you're all so disturbed. We have three attackers.

First, and perhaps most importantly, is Jimmy Dee. He admitted to the attack on Leslie Smith. His DNA was collected and processed from the scene, from the rape. He confessed to the crime, saying it was random. He also admits to the rape and murder of Mandy, as well as the attack on Charlotte. There is no DNA evidence here, but he CONFESSED to it. He has no alibi for any of the times of the attacks. And he had a minor record as a juvenile. Plus, he fits the description that the girls related, down to the ice blue eyes.

Then, there's Roger Timms. He was linked to Leslie Smith's rape as well from DNA. In a weird twist, he was found dead on Dee's property. And Dee admitted to killing HIM! He said in his confession that Timms was getting cold feet about participating in the rape and murder, and he was about to come to the police. So he killed him—blunt force trauma to the head. He and Dee apparently knew each other as kids

Finally, there's Charlie Hughes. Again, a DNA match to the Smith rape. He was killed last week by Officer Daley after attacking Vanessa... and Joe, seemingly by accident. There seems to have been a relationship with the other two men while they were in high school.

And THAT…" Collig finished, "Is why I don't understand why you're pursuing this. Three suspects; two deaths; one confession. It adds up."

"We'll see about that," Fenton replied. "It SEEMS to add up. I'll tell you what." He addressed the group. "I want everyone here, myself included, to sit quietly for ten minutes. Think about what Chief Collig said. Write down anything that you think you'd like to pursue, anything that doesn't seem to make sense, no matter how minute it seems. Then, we'll put our cards on the table, go through methodically; review the files that the Chief has been kind enough to obtain. Deal?"

They all agreed, starting to write down their thoughts.

After the agreed upon time period, an hour long, heated discussion followed. Nancy was surprised to see how the Hardys, all of them, seemed to work so well together, seemingly all different parts to one finely tuned engine. She began to wonder if she had a place here, after all. Still, determined to do her best to help them, even if to make amends for her poor decision with Frank, she concentrated on the task at hand. Finally, a list emerged.

"Okay—let's see what we have then," Fenton said, trying to tie everything together. "Joe, read what we've all come up with, things that don't seem to make sense to us, and we'll make a list. Go ahead."

Doing as his father indicated, Joe held up the list.

Missing Pieces

1. The first attack involved three men; the others involved one. Why?

**2. The attack on Vanessa was perpetrated by Charlie Hughes, who had BROWN eyes. The attacks on Leslie, Charlotte and Mandy involved someone with BLUE eyes (Dee?). Why are there seemingly two different men involved?**

3. Why did Charlie Hughes suddenly reappear if he was not the man involved in the attacks on Mandy and Charlotte?

4. The methods of attack changed. Gang rape w/ DNA evidence & murder; rape #2 (protection- no DNA) & murder; rape #3 (protection-no DNA)- no murder; attack #4 (attempted rape). Appears to be getting more personal—why?

5. How did the security tapes from both the garage at Charlotte's work and Vanessa's apartment go missing? Where are they? (Inside job?!)

6. HOW could Dee, who is only 5'4", kill Timms, who is over 6 feet, with blunt force trauma to the HEAD?

7. Why would Dee leave Timms' body on his own property?

8. IF there were two men involved (Dee and Hughes) HOW did Dee communicate with Hughes?

9. Why did Dee drive in a direction where he knew he'd get caught by the cops? He seemed to go right to them.

10. Why would Dee CONFESS to two rapes, when he went out of his way to use protection in order NOT to get caught?

11. It's a large leap from a small juvenile record that could have been expunged to a major, violent criminal (Dee and Timms). Why the leap?

"I guess that's about it," Joe finished. "Do you SEE why there's a problem here?" Joe directed his growing frustration towards Chief Collig.

"I admit, Joe—it IS strange," Collig replied. "But we may never be able to explain some things. I'm going to play Devil's advocate for a moment here. Let's consider some possibilities—although I do see your points. Dee doesn't appear to have communicated with anyone from the outside—but I'll check on that. It IS possible that Dee was telling the truth that he killed Timms, even though he is shorter than him; height isn't necessarily a factor. Hughes may have been afraid of getting caught, or ratted out, by Dee, and so he returned to try and get rid of the only witnesses. Criminals, especially desperate ones, change their minds about their method of attack all the time. Dee would have known he had a small criminal history and DNA could prove his guilt. Therefore, if he was desperate, he would have worked in a hurry and wouldn't have thought about where he left the body, or where he was heading to."

"No!" Joe interjected, furious. "You're rationalizing something that isn't rational. This guy was so careful—why would he mess up all of a sudden?"

Collig raised a hand to his temple and sighed, deeply. "I don't know, Joe. I'm as frustrated as you are. Well,... almost…" he added when he realized again what Joe had been through. "What I do know is THIS- there is NO EVIDENCE that anyone other than Dee was involved in the first three attacks. The other two guys are DEAD—and he's in JAIL—and I honestly can't explain it. I'm willing to go out on a limb for you now, so we need to plan some type of strategy to fill in these holes. But calm down, Joe. I know it's hard, but I'm on your side…even though someone could have my head for this, okay?"

"Joe…" Frank warned, standing and reaching for his brother's arm.

"No, Frank! Enough!" Joe shook his brother's hand off violently and whirled around, facing him. "CALLIE wasn't attacked; VANESSA was. Maybe you'd care a little bit more if the situation was reversed!"

Stung, Frank glared at him and Joe knew he'd just crossed the line with his brother again. Still, Frank remained calm. "Listen, Joe. I know you're upset, but please-- lay off, okay? Obviously, I'm incredibly grateful that Callie was spared. But don't you think, for an instant, that I wouldn't have done everything in my power to prevent Vanessa from getting hurt as well? And that being said--I'm giving you my word that, IF there's something to be found, we'll find it." From the look in his eyes, Joe was instantly reassured that Frank was on his side, as he always had been.

Sheepishly, he looked down and, unable to meet his brother's eyes, he mumbled, "I apologize. You didn't deserve that." He was momentarily at a loss for words. Fortunately, he didn't have to speak, because the next thing he knew, his dad was at his side.

"Son," Fenton spoke, gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. You've been through an incredibly trying ordeal. You're still weak, you're stumped; we all are." He put an arm around his younger son in an affectionate hug, but the change in his voice suggested that he meant business. "Still, this case is personal now. And Frank's right; if there's something to be found, we'll find it. Because no one—and I mean no one—attacks my kids. Any of them." His choice of words made Joe look up, and he understood his dad's phrase perfectly.

Touched deeply, Joe took a moment to look around the room. His dad, world famous private investigator was there, but right now he was just…Dad. Frank held no bitterness in his eyes for Joe's earlier outburst, only concern and determination. Chief Collig, for all of his gruffness, was looking at him with kindness; with sympathy. Even Nancy, for all the undertone of acrimony, seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being.

If there was any way in the world that a seemingly impossible case could be analyzed, that a rabbit could be pulled out of a hat and his gut instinct that something was wrong could be proved correct, then he knew he couldn't be working with a better team. No—they weren't just a team; they were his family and friends, and he knew that they'd do anything—everything—to help him.

Blinking back tears of thanks, he spoke shakily. "So…" He cleared his throat. "So what now?" was all he could manage.

Fenton, answered in understanding. "We're going to divide and conquer, investigate what we can, interview people, review files, and basically turn everything inside out. Son, if there's an answer, we'll find it."

"Thanks, Dad," he managed in gratitude. "I... I just couldn't stand around, waiting for the possibility that there would be some other attack."

He did not know then that the wait would not be long.


	19. Chapter 19

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 19

"Are you sure you don't need any help with that?" Vanessa asked, turning to look at Callie who was in the middle of preparing what smelled like an absolutely fantastic dinner.

"Van! I'm fine. REALLY," she emphasized. "Go relax."

"I feel I should be doing something, you know? Just sitting here makes me go stir crazy," Vanessa responded with a sigh. Still, she listened to Callie and sat back against the chair in the kitchen.

"Okay, Joe," Callie kidded. Then she turned more serious. Facing Vanessa, she responded, "You've been through enough already. Relax, take it easy… try not to THINK about anything."

Vanessa, comforted, smiled and absently reached for some chocolates that Callie had out on the table.

"Hey!" Callie laughed. "The one thing you CAN do for me is to save your appetite. This isn't an easy meal, chickie." With those words, Callie turned again to the stove and began adding ingredients to the pot.

"I'll make room," she responded, and watched as the back of Callie's hair flew side to side as she shook her head in mock disapproval.

Looking at her best friend, Vanessa couldn't help but to feel a wave of gratitude overcome her as she thought about having such a special person in her life. After the attack on her and Joe last week, Vanessa had been scared—terrified, really—to return back to the apartment that she shared with Joe. What had happened to her was bad enough, but the thought of what could have happened was enough to make her eyes tear automatically and her body start to tremble. Those ideas, along with the terror of almost having lost Joe, made her apartment the last place she wanted to be.

Callie had sensed it at once, because she had approached Vanessa in the hospital, presumably after speaking with Frank, and offered for them to come live at their house until their lease was up in two months. She had been flabbergasted and deeply touched at the gesture, but unsure of what to do, how to respond. After all, Frank and Callie were in the midst of preparing for a wedding, planning a honeymoon, getting a house ready and working two full time jobs. The last thing they needed was for extra guests who would take even more of their time.

Unable to help a small smile from creeping to her lips, she recalled the conversation in vivid detail. Joe had been in the hospital for a few days and was starting to recover, and, as always, she had been by his side, unwilling to leave him for even a moment. That's when Frank and Callie had come in and cornered them.

"_So what would you guys think about coming to stay with us for a while?" Frank asked, after he and Callie had seemingly gone to great lengths to make small talk. The question had been totally unexpected, leaving her and Joe no time to think about what they would say. THAT, she later realized, had been the desired effect._

_"Uh…" Vanessa stammered, and Joe cut in with, "What are you talking about?"_

_Frank continued. "Well, we figured that you might not want to go back to your apartment with... everything."_

_Joe, as shocked as Vanessa, answered, "Oh." Clearly, and understandably, he hadn't yet processed the "after" effects of the attack. As he looked at Vanessa, though, she could see that it had just dawned on him what his brother was referring to, and he was at a loss._

_"Actually, that's just part of the reason," Callie cut in. "To be honest, we need some help around the house. I'm not living there full time—well, not officially," she stopped to squeeze Frank's hand, "And there's a lot that we still need to do. When Joe feels better, he could help Frank with the painting. And you, Van, could help me with the decorating. I'm still not too sure of what style I should make the living room."_

_Vanessa felt tears in her eyes. Callie had impeccable taste, and Frank could paint the whole house by himself in a week. She had no words…_

_Seeing Vanessa and Joe shocked into silence, Frank carried on. "Absolutely! In fact, there's a lot more work than even painting that needs to be done. We still have to talk about bachelor party #4…" He winked at Callie._

_"I… I guess," Joe had managed. He would need help when he got out of the hospital, at least for a few weeks. More importantly, though, he just realized the hell it would be putting Vanessa through to return. Again, he was awed by his brother's, and Callie's, kindness._

_"But…" Vanessa began, but was silenced by Callie. "No 'buts'", she interjected. She spoke quickly with a small nod of encouragement from Frank. "Actually, we're the ones who should be thanking YOU. I mean, it'll be great to have you guys around to help out and everything. I'll go get your stuff now—with Frank. Come on!" She grabbed Frank's hand. "We'll stop by after dinner tonight—after we get some friends to help move your stuff to our place. Who knows? Maybe I'll keep that nice sofa you have! BYE!" With a wave, Frank and Callie left._

_Alone with Joe, they slowly turned to look at one another in understanding of the incredible favor that they'd just been granted._

_"They're amazing," Vanessa managed._

_Joe reached out and held her hand. "YOU'RE amazing," he answered, quietly, taking in everything that had just occurred. "And I need you to be okay. At Frank and Callie's—no harm can come to you there. You'll be safe; and that's all that matters to me. Period. Besides," he added, a small glimmer in his beautiful blue eyes, "I am one HELL of a painter."_

"Van?"

Vanessa jumped up, snapped out of her reverie by Callie. By the concerned expression that she wore, Vanessa knew that Callie was concluding that she had been thinking of the attack.

"Sorry, Cal. I'm okay." She reached for Callie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I just—I was thinking of what a wonderful friend you are. You and Frank, both."

Callie smiled and reached over, giving her friend a hug. "Friend? You're family. AND… family doesn't need to be grateful or reflective or anything else unnecessarily. What they do need to do," she added with a laugh, "Is to stop eating my chocolate!!"

Vanessa rolled her eyes and, right in front of Callie, opened the wrapper on a Hershey's kiss and plopped the chocolate into her mouth. She smiled.

"Oh, my," Callie said in amazement. "You really ARE the female Joe."

Vanessa was about to respond when she heard the doorbell ring.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Vanessa asked.

"No," Callie answered. "But I'll check it out."

Arriving at the door, which she always kept locked, Callie looked out the peephole. Although she saw no one, she did see a nondescript box with a UPS label affixed to it. At once, she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. It had been far too fast for someone to have rung the doorbell, left a package, and disappeared.

Still, she and Frank had been receiving lots of housewarming gifts and well wishes for the wedding. Hating herself for being so paranoid, she slowly opened the door.

"Hey!" someone called from the side of the door as she almost tripped over him.

Callie jumped, and thought she was having a heart attack.

The UPS deliveryman stared at her apologetically. "Sorry, ma'am," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Letting out a deep breath and covering her heart involuntarily with her hand, Callie noticed at once that the reason she hadn't seen him was because he had moved to the side of the door to tie his shoelace. Picking up the box, he handed it to her.

"Sorry again," he repeated. "Vanessa Bender?" He read the name on the box.

"No…no," Callie responded, getting her bearings. "Callie Shaw."

The man looked confused. "Oh," he said. "I have a package to be delivered to one Vanessa Bender at this address. The sender's name is Andrea Bender." He went to check his notepad again.

"I'll take it," Callie answered, relieved. "Vanessa's inside. It's the right address." Still, by instinct, she asked to see the man's identity. She'd been with Frank long enough to know the basic rules of safety, even if other people thought it was odd. With a slightly surprised look, the man shrugged, took out his card, and handed it to her. Thanking him, she looked it over before handing it back. Signing her name for the delivery of the box, she thanked the man again, and turned to go into the house.

"Cal?!"

Callie jumped again as she noticed Vanessa eagerly looking out to see what was taking Callie so long.

"Coming," she managed, thinking silently, _I must be going crazy. Everything's making me nervous!_

Once inside, Vanessa pounced. "Where were you? Why did it take you so long? Who was that?" The attack had left her, much to her own dismay, nervous anytime a doorbell rang.

"I was outside, talking to the UPS man, and I got this package. It's from your mom."

"Oh! Cool!" Vanessa smiled at last. "It must be the new sweaters that she said my aunt bought for me when she was in New Yorklast month." She went to open the package.

At once, Callie felt sick. "Van? Bring that package to the door—now."

"Why?" Vanessa queried, puzzled.

"Just do it!" Callie responded, opening both the inside and the screen doors and indicating for Vanessa to hand her the box.

Puzzled, Vanessa did as Callie asked. She walked to the door, and Callie grabbed the package steadily and paced, quickly, away from the house. Vanessa followed at her heels.

"Cal? What's wrong?" Vanessa pleaded, worried.

"Get back," Callie said evenly, feeling beads of sweat on her forehead.

"What's the matter?"

Callie was afraid to move and stopped suddenly. She'd had a bad feeling when the package first arrived. She'd ignored it. Then, the package looked somehow oddly shaped to her, but she'd ignored the feeling once again. Finally, when Vanessa said that her mom had sent her a sweater, Callie KNEW that something was wrong. There had been no reason for Andrea to send Vanessa anything; she lived only 20 minutes away. Worse yet, that package was NOT shaped like a sweater.

As soon as Vanessa had handed her the box, Callie heard it. The faintest _tick, tick, tick_ … it was barely discernible. But she'd heard it. And she had no idea when it was set to go off. She didn't have time to warn Vanessa. Dropping the package away from the house, she grabbed her friend's hand and yanked it. "RUN!" she shouted.

It was drowned out by the deafening roar of the explosion…

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Across town, Charlotte Schwartz, just recently released from the hospital herself, looked down at the frame containing a picture of her boyfriend. Blinking back tears, fighting the haunting images that just wouldn't go away, she raised a hand to her mouth and bit down on her finger… hoping that somehow the pain of the moment would erase every other ache of the past. Again, the swarm of memories came fighting to the surface. About to get lost in them, she was immensely grateful when she heard the doorbell ringing….

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Back at the police station, a concrete division of labor had just been established. Going round the table to confirm everyone's specific tasks, they all felt better that something was finally going to get done.

Joe, because of his weakened condition, was relegated to performing basic research, much to his dismay. His job was to sort through the seemingly endless files that Chief Collig had procured on the cases. Specifically, he was to examine the family and friends of Roger Timms and Charlie Hughes, and see what he could come up with. Although he was upset that he couldn't actually be in the field, he understood the necessity of examining every last detail—and then examining it again. Normally, this was Frank's line of work. But somehow, seeing the name of Charlie Hughes again, he felt the familiar adrenaline begin to pump through his veins. Determined to know every last detail about this man who had attacked Vanessa, and him, he slipped a finger under the envelope flap and began to research. This time, he knew, the stakes were too high not to care about minutia.

Frank had the decidedly difficult task of researching every last bit of information he could find about the rapist—the murderer—Jimmy Dee. His Master's in Forensics was going to come in handy here, he knew. He was bound and determined to make sure that no evidence had been tampered with, no DNA sample compromised, that could have fingered the wrong guy. He was almost as eager to find out about Dee's background. Too many questions were left unanswered. It just didn't make sense for a guy with no real major criminal history to suddenly become a violent offender. It HAD happened before… but Frank was slowly beginning to nurture the gut instinct that he'd always had, but chose to ignore. This case was personal. He'd almost lost his brother; had come close to seeing Joe once again destroyed by the possibility of something happening to Vanessa.

Somehow, for some strange reason, things always seemed to happen to his brother, and he always, one way or another, got spared. Maybe it was because he thought a bit more carefully than Joe, tended not to follow his instincts; then again, Joe's instincts had probably saved them both far more times than he cared to admit. Still, watching his brother in physical pain over the years had been hard. Watching him in emotional and mental pain had been almost unbearable. He didn't know if he could have survived, and carried on so gracefully, if something had happened to Callie, as it had with Iola and almost with Vanessa. Big brother protectiveness almost overwhelming him, he sat down to think…. To do what he did best.

Nancy and Chief Collig had divided the tasks of re-interviewing any witnesses, checking the security breaches in the apartment and at work, and revisiting the scenes of the crimes in order to find any overlooked evidence. It was a tedious job, but a necessary one. Collig, motivated by the thought of his daughter and haunted by the look in Joe Hardy's eyes, knew it was worth his job to see if – maybe—they had the wrong man. And Nancy, knowing she had to leave on good terms with everyone, diligently dedicated herself to helping her friends.

But it was Fenton who had the envied—the feared—position. He would interview Jimmy Dee. All his years of experience had taught him that there was a great chance that Dee wouldn't even speak with him. That was fine. He was looking for expressions, body movement, how eyes betrayed the emotions behind masks on faces, that he was after. If Dee was lying, if he had something to hide, at the very least Fenton would know it. That was worth more than any "evidence" to the contrary.

"Are we ready folks?" Collig asked, looking at the eager faces around him.

Seeing the nods of agreement, he was about to leave when his phone suddenly rang.

Exasperated, he picked it up. "Collig," he huffed into the phone.

Nancy, Fenton, Frank and Joe all watched as Collig's face went from red to stark white as he listened to the voice at the other end of the phone.

"What's the matter?!" Joe asked, jumping to his feet. At once, he knew it wasn't good.

Clicking the cell phone shut, he could barely meet the eyes of Joe and Frank Hardy, and he KNEW that Fenton was right about this case after all.

"There's been an accident…"


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Thank you to those of you who took the time to review. While it can occasionally be discouraging not to receive feedback, those of you who do take the time to "drop a line" make all the difference in the world. I am grateful to you! Hope you continue to enjoy the story!_

" Fire and Ice"

Chapter 20

"_They're okay. They're okay_." Frank kept muttering the words silently, almost as if trying to convince himself of their veracity. After the call had come in to Collig, and he'd relayed the information that he'd been given, he and Joe were immediately told to return to the scene of the crime to talk to the officers and the girls. "_The scene of the crime",_ he thought to himself, bitterly. When does _home _become a crime scene?

Now, rushing through the streets of Bayport in a patrol car driven by one of Collig's officers, Frank couldn't help but wonder what the hell was happening to all of them and to try and organize his thoughts.

His father was on his way as well in a separate car, because once the news reached Collig and it was declared that the girls were okay, Fenton KNEW that he had to make one stop much earlier than anticipated. Even though he wanted to see Callie and Vanessa in person and to see what had happened for himself, there was no doubt in his mind that that the interview with Dee had to happen now. Determined to get things moving, Fenton had to tear his eyes away from his two sons, away from their expressions of horror, and comfort them in the best way he knew how to. After holding them both quickly, he left-- wanting to come back with some information to give them that no one else would get hurt.

Nancy and Collig were on their way to visit Charlotte who, by some miracle, had also been spared when she'd refused to open the door to her home. Whether it was her instinct, the trauma she'd just been through, or just plain fear, somehow she'd managed to avoid being hurt—or killed—when the package exploded.

Now, Frank could only barely fight the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. Again, somehow, Callie had been spared. In fact, the package had been sent to their house for Vanessa, a fact that Frank knew had to have significance somehow. He needed to concentrate on the facts, replay exactly what he had been told by the officers… by Callie.

As soon as he had heard the news from Collig, Callie had called his cell and told him exactly what had transpired. Still, he could barely believe it. She had spoken in a soft, neutral tone, and only he could detect the faintest hesitation in between her words… the silences that spoke to him louder than anything she could have said. He knew that she was being strong for HIM, silently telling him to be calm. Listening to her voice was like hearing the voice of an angel.

Still, he couldn't help but to think it odd that Callie had told him that when he arrived with Joe, she needed to speak to Joe privately for a minute before seeing him. Puzzled, and longing to hold her, he'd asked why. Something in Callie's tone told him that he would find out later; but he'd better do it. With a resigned sigh and immense gratitude, he wondered how he would restrain his brother for even an instant from seeing Vanessa.

_Joe_. Turning sidelong to look at his brother, Frank felt a pang in his heart. The instant that Joe had heard that Vanessa had been attacked and targeted again… the minute that he'd heard the words 'bomb' and 'fire'… the second that he'd thought he'd lost Vanessa, Frank saw a change in his brother that he hadn't seen in years… since Iola.

Despite Frank's assurances that the girls were okay, he knew that Joe didn't and wouldn't believe it until he saw it for himself. Despite the fear of what had almost happened to Callie, Frank had forced himself to remain steady; to attempt to comfort Joe by steadily relaying facts, trying to save him from drowning in his own emotions. As they had driven, he'd told him about his conversation with Callie, how the house had been spared, how everything would be okay. Yet his brother remained on edge, unspeaking and shaking, whether from anger or terror, Frank couldn't tell.

For only the second time in their lives, Frank didn't know how to handle his brother. All he could do was to be there for him and reassure him that he was on his side. If Joe was going to break, Frank would be there to pick up the pieces and put them together again.

As they approached the house, Joe was ready to jump from the car. He could barely think straight, could barely hold his emotions in check. He saw the concerned expression on his brother's face, the compassion in his voice, and he appreciated it. But Frank didn't get it; he never would. Frank hadn't lost the love of his life, hadn't seen anyone he loved directly targeted over and over. Sure, Callie and Vanessa—even Iola—had been in danger before, but it had been pretty easy to protect them, really. Until Iola. Then, Vanessa's attack had come—and he knew that he'd die himself before he lost HER. Frank meant well, he knew that. Again, though, this was the one thing in their lives that had separated them; always would. And as grateful as Joe was that Frank hadn't experienced the pain that he had, he couldn't even begin to explain it to him. All he wanted was to see Vanessa—now.

Arriving at the house, now surrounded by swarms of officers, Joe flung the car door open before Frank could stop him and ran towards the house. The world seemed to be swimming all around him; he could literally feel the beating of his heart pounding in his head. He barely had time to notice the officers milling about with evidence bags, or hear anyone calling his name. Where was Vanessa? Where WAS she? He began to panic.

As he reached the porch, he felt someone grab his arm. Whirling around, he found himself looking right at Callie. "Where's Vanessa?" he cried out to her; his voice seemed foreign to his own ears.

"Joe. Joe! Look at me. Now."

THIS is why Callie had wanted to see him. She was terrified by what had occurred, but Vanessa… well, devastated didn't begin to cover it. Vanessa was a mess, and Callie knew how badly she needed Joe. Callie also knew, though, exactly how Joe would be acting. When Iola had died, Frank had been so focused on distracting Joe from his pain that he had poured all of his energy into looking for _solutions_. Callie, though, who'd lost a dear friend, _saw_ how Joe reacted and felt, and watched him act in the present, not how she hoped he'd act in the future. She knew with certainty that if she let Joe go in and see Vanessa acting like this, then Vanessa might lose faith in him and his ability to protect her. That could start a whole chain of events that neither Joe nor Vanessa were prepared for. And Callie would NOT allow that to happen to two people she loved so much.

"Move!" He shouted and flung her hand away from him, causing Callie to reel back for an instant and almost lose her balance. Something in the violence of his action caused him to freeze for a split second as he realized what he'd just done, and that was all the time that Callie needed.

"Joe—stop. Stop!" Callie spoke forcefully, grabbing both his hands.

"Listen to me! Vanessa needs you Joe. She needs you to be strong; so get it together, okay?"

Listening to her and seeing the expression of deep concern on her face made him calmer. Slowly, he forced himself to take deep, shaky breaths. Unable to speak for a moment, he felt the world slow down a bit and began to slowly compose himself.

Callie reached up and placed her hands on both sides of Joe's face. She looked him directly in the eyes. The effect was instant, and Joe nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"She's okay, Joe. I promise you. I'd never lie." Callie kept talking, seeing Joe finally calming down enough to listen. "I know you're scared. I also know that you and Frank are going to get this guy—whoever it is—and stop this from happening ever again. Vanessa is inside, Joe. Be strong for her. Let her know you'll protect her. She knows it already, but—let her know it AGAIN. She's scared."

Her voice was so soothing, so reassuring. She was right, and he knew it. If he went in there and acted like he felt inside, he'd be no help to Vanessa at all. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them again, he felt better; stronger.

Reaching his hand around to the back of Callie's head, he pulled her quickly to him and kissed the top of her hair. "Thank you," he whispered, and, turning, walked steadily and calmly into the house.

Frank, watching everything transpire at a close distance, stood in awe. How could she be so calm, so strong, after everything? How had she known how to reach Joe when he hadn't been able to do it?

Running quickly to her, he wordlessly took her in his arms and pulled her to him. It was only then that he felt her trembling, felt the tears on his shirt as she collapsed against him. Tightening his hold on her, he vowed, there and then, never to put her in this situation again. Someone was going to pay dearly for this……

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Downtown, Fenton had managed to arrange an impromptu meeting with Jimmy Dee—after Collig's intervention. His friend was certainly doing everything in his power to show Fenton that he believed in him, risking his own job security and reputation. Fenton was starting to think, though, that Ezra was motivated by other forces. Now that the girls had come under target again, there HAD to be more to the puzzle. And Fenton knew that Ezra, for some reason, had always been sensitive to cases involving violence against women. Immensely grateful for his good fortune in colleagues who happened to also be friends, he sat in the interrogation room of the jailhouse, waiting. Forcing himself to put his fatherly thoughts and protective instincts from his mind, he focused on the facts he knew, and pushed his investigative side to the forefront. He WOULD find something out. He had to—for his kids….

Fenton glanced at his watch for the hundredth time and mentally reviewed the facts of the case. Even though he'd given Frank the task of researching Dee's history, and knew that Frank's Forensics background would be invaluable, he had already, unbeknownst to his eldest son, reviewed all the files himself, leaving no stone unturned. He needed Frank to look with fresh eyes upon a case that Fenton's older ones had already perused. Later, they'd trade notes.

Thinking of his sons briefly, a small smile crossed his lips as he recalled how they both had acquired parts of his personality. Frank had Fenton's sense of logic, his patience, his ability to read between the lines. Joe, on the other hand, had an instinct; an ability to read people and just KNOW that something wasn't right. At times like this, Fenton didn't know which traits were most valuable. He did know that neither of his sons yet had his experience… one day, he knew, they would far surpass him, as they learned to nurture their strengths and to fight their weaknesses. Right now, though, he was going to pull out every bit of hands-on knowledge that he'd acquired through the years and just… see what happened.

Suddenly, the door opened and Fenton stood. Jimmy Dee, wearing handcuffs and escorted by two uniformed police officers, was led into the room. Outside, behind the mirrored wall, Fenton knew that he was being watched by Ezra's top aides. He also knew that anything that was said was virtually inadmissible in court unless Fenton could get him to plea bargain for information. He didn't care, though. He wasn't expecting a physical confession; he was trying to see what this man's eyes betrayed.

In an unexpected move, Dee had refused an attorney, stating to the officer in charge that he had nothing to say that he hadn't said already, and that he was expecting to receive a life sentence anyway—minimally.

The officers pulled out a chair, forcefully pushed Dee into it, and sat him down, removing his handcuffs. Dee stretched and rubbed his wrists which were raw and red. Fenton sat at the other side of the table.

Dee looked up at him, and Fenton inwardly shuddered; there were the ice blue eyes that had so haunted Callie and Vanessa.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me today," he began, calmly.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" Dee answered back.

At once, Fenton saw it. Dee was nervous. WHY? He didn't HAVE to speak with Fenton; he could have just sat there and stared at him. But here he was, shaking his leg up and down. Fenton also noticed that he looked pale and was constantly sniffling and he made a mental note to check with the nurse on staff about Dee' s overall health.

Slowly, Fenton responded, eyes never leaving Dee, studying his every movement. "Actually, you DID have a choice. So I'm going to be real direct here. I have a few questions that I'd like answered. IF you agree to help me to answer them, I'll see what I can do to arrange some leniency with your sentencing."

Dee smiled eerily and answered. "I don't want leniency. But I'll answer your questions. It's kind of interesting to see a world-renowned private investigator here for some reason. That must mean there's a problem."

Fenton was vaguely surprised that this guy even knew who he was. Again, he made a mental check to find out how he knew that. This guy was playing a game. Fortunately, it was one in which Fenton had a lot of practice. Dee was talking; that had been even more than he'd expected. Fenton knew that if he could keep him talking, maybe he would reveal something, the smallest detail, that could help make sense of everything.

One thing Fenton knew was that you never, ever laid your cards on the table with a criminal. The smart ones knew how to manipulate the information. His gut was telling him that this guy was smart, so he knew he had to do the one thing this guy didn't expect-- he did the very opposite of what he knew he should do.

The game began.

"You killed and raped Leslie Smith and Mandy O'Hara. You raped Charlotte Smith."

"I said I did," Dee responded.

_He's playing word games. He's telling me what he said isn't totally what he did. _Fenton concentrated on every aspect NOT being said.

"Why?"

Dee shrugged, sniffling again.

"You're small. How exactly did you manage to kill Roger Timms with a blow to the head?"

Dee hesitated, and Fenton saw it.

"He was bent over; easy enough."

Fenton saw at once he was lying. He knew that the blow had come from the front, NOT the back. He also saw that Dee shifted his eyes to the right when he lied; trying to think of what to say. Not to THINK! Fenton suddenly realized. To REMEMBER! He felt a chill.

"How did you know Charlie Hughes?"

Dee looked uncomfortable. "You know the answer to that."

Fenton nodded. "True. What I don't know is why he would attack the fourth victim," he paused, thinking of Vanessa, "when you were already in jail."

Dee hesitated, and then answered. _He's REMEMBERING, _Fenton knew. _Somehow, he's the fall guy. HOW?!_

"I don't control what people do. I guess he was the only one left, huh? I was told you all had DNA evidence anyway. Maybe he just wanted to get rid of the witnesses." Now Dee was shaking his leg furiously and sniffling with a vengeance.

"Ah," Fenton responded, leaning forward. "Then riddle me this—IF you're in jail, and IF Hughes and Timms are dead, then you have the perfect crime. You've confessed—you're guilty, right?"

Dee's eyes shifted, though he met Fenton's stare.

Fenton went on. "So WHY attack the remaining victims today, Dee? More importantly, HOW did you do that? Go on—impress me."

Dee sat up straight. Fenton saw it at once. He was startled. Jimmy Dee had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

At once, Dee jumped from his seat and was immediately restrained by the officers, who thought he was about to attack Fenton. Fenton, though, knew that wasn't the case. In fact, it looked to him like Dee was trying to get away; like he was afraid of him.

"Interview over!" Dee declared, false bravado in his voice. "Good luck trying to solve your puzzle—Mr. Hardy." He was immediately led away from the room.

Alone for a moment, Fenton's mind started working in overdrive. He knew several things. Someone had tipped Dee off to his arrival. Dee was surprised by his directness. Above all, Dee was LYING. About how much, Fenton didn't know—but he was determined to find out.

Leaving the room, he stopped to thank several of the officers and was about to call Collig when a thought crossed his mind. Dee certainly hadn't left the jail cell, which meant that his contact outside had to have been made by mail or phone.

Walking outside to his car, he silently thanked Collig again for already obtaining that information for him in the stacks of files he had put together at Fenton's request. Opening the door, he got into the driver's seat and began, slowly and methodically, reviewing the information.

He did not know how much time had gone by when he saw it—a string of phone calls had been made to the same number, at the same time, every other day. Those days had also been on dates one day before each attack—including yesterday. The duration of the calls had been unclear, but he made a note to check on that as well as to revisit the building to speak with the nurse.

Flipping open his cell, he punched in a number he knew by heart.

"Hello?"

"Phil. Fenton Hardy. Listen, I need you to do me a favor."

Phil Cohen was Frank's best friend, a computer whiz so good that he made Frank seem mediocre—and THAT was not an easy task to do. Although Phil worked on his own, he often did work for the Bayport P.D. as well as the FBI. He was a genius. More than that, though, he was like a surrogate son they'd known him so long. One thing about Phil was that, if he liked you, he'd work with lightning speed. Fortunately, he liked Fenton.

Over the course of the next several minutes, Phil did as he was requested, hacking into information from the jail records. Fenton suspected that the dialed number would be unlisted—surprisingly, it wasn't.

"Mr. H? I got it." Phil responded into the phone.

"Thanks, son. Go ahead." Fenton took out a notepad and prepared to write the name down so he wouldn't forget it.

He wouldn't need to, though.

As Phil's response came back over the line, Fenton dropped the pen he was holding.

"Jacobs, Tom."

Taking the phone away from his ear, he stared at it in horror. _Officer _Tom Jacobs… the same one who was with Frank and Callie—right now……..


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: You know, this story actually took me a really long time to write. Nothing is ever perfect, but I did my best to tell a good story, incorporate a mystery, and develop the characters as I saw them. That's the key-- as I saw them. If people don't like it, they're more than welcome not to read. I understand that and have no problem with it. However, there's no reason to "flame" or to be mean. I'm not going to say anything more about that, as the person, whose comment I have decided to leave up, is worth no more of my time. I would, though, like her crystal ball..._

_T__hat being said, THANK YOU so much for those of you who continue to review. Your comments mean a lot, especially since this is the first story that I have posted here. Phoenix and Red, you girls always have my back and you rock! Helen, your comments always bring me a smile. As for bhar, violetsunshine, fandemonium, Dreams, Dr. Drew, bookwork, Shani, Reney, amblewat, etc.-- I have read everything you've posted and I sincerely appreciate all of your feedback! I hope that you all continue to like the story. I can't tell you how many times I have had something happen at work and I come home to find a nice review-- it really does make things better! Finally, lazypanther-- I am so glad that you PM'd me and I know who you are (wink). Your review was AWESOME. Thanks a lot._

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 21

The first time he heard the cell phone ring, he ignored it. Inside Frank and Callie's house, all Joe could concentrate on was having Vanessa here, in his arms. Immensely grateful to Callie for having calmed him down, Joe just closed his eyes and held Vanessa tighter than he thought possible, gently stroking her hair and telling her that it would be okay. It enraged him, absolutely infuriated him, to feel Vanessa shaking, to hear her muffled sobs. Worse yet, he hadn't felt so helpless since… well, a long time ago.

The second time the cell phone rang, he _almost _picked it up. But Vanessa had looked at him, tears streaking her beautiful face, and he'd melted. Somehow, words of comfort came from his mouth, and he listened to himself speaking them, not recognizing his voice.

The third time the cell phone rang, he reached for it, but then Vanessa had started talking, sharing her fears and allowing herself to be totally vulnerable with him. He'd ignored the phone once again, seeing that speaking gave Vanessa a sense of empowerment. Through her words, Joe actually saw Vanessa's strength begin to return, and there was no way he was going to stop that.

By the fourth time the cell phone rang and he finally answered it, Joe wished he had picked it up the first time.

"What?" he barked into the phone.

"Where the HELL have you been?"

Joe sat up immediately, and Vanessa did as well, seeing the expression on his face.

"Oh… Oh, sorry Dad," he apologized.

"Sorry! Joseph….oh, never mind! Where's your brother?'' Fenton sounded somewhere between terrified and furious.

"Frank?" he stammered, still trying to get his bearings.

"No, Joe—your other brother," Fenton replied sarcastically. Then, seeming to recover quickly, he carried on. "Now, Joe. Where IS he? Is he with you? Where's Callie?"

"What's wrong?" Joe asked at once, a sudden fear gripping his stomach.

"Joseph!" his father bellowed.

"Yeah. Yes. He's here. I mean, I think so. He's outside. Hold on."

He got up and sprinted to the front of the house. Everything seemed so … normal, given the circumstances. Numerous police officers were milling about. And his brother was sitting quietly on the swing on the front porch with Callie, arm around her, watching almost in shock as their new yard was being torn apart.

"Yeah, Dad. He's with Callie. He's…."

"Put him on the phone—right now," his dad ordered.

Shrugging, and worried that his dad was so obviously worried about something as well, he signaled for Frank to come over and held out the phone.

Puzzled, Frank took the phone from his brother, who finished mouthing "Dad" and who stood right next to him, listening in. Frank didn't even bother to "shoo" him away; he was just glad that Joe seemed almost back to normal. Besides, Frank would end up telling him about whatever their father told him anyway.

"Hel…"

"Frank!"

"Yeah, hi Dad. Are you okay?" Something in his father's voice was so forceful… frightened?… that he had Frank's instant attention.

"Am I… are YOU okay? Fenton asked. "Why didn't you pick up your phone?!"

"Uh…" he looked down at his pocket and realized that he must have left his phone in the patrol car.

"Never mind!" Fenton continued in exasperation.

Joe shot Frank a look. He knew that his dad was really bothered by something.

"Where's Callie? Where's Vanessa? Are they with you?" Fenton continued, almost pleading.

"Yeah. Dad, everyone's okay. Why?"

At that moment, sirens came screeching down the street. Frank and Joe watched as three patrol cars surrounded the car that they'd arrived in and several more officers jumped out, weapons drawn.

Tom Jacobs, apparently startled, went to reach for his weapon as well, clearly having no idea what was going on.

"Drop your weapon!"

Frank and Joe recognized Collig's voice immediately and stared, open- mouthed, at the scene unfolding before them.

Frank, having recovered a split second before his brother, dropped the phone and instinctively reached for Callie and shoved her behind him. Joe also moved back towards the door, stopping only long enough to retrieve the phone, somehow needing to find Vanessa at once.

"Dad!" he began, but was cut off by Fenton.

"I know what's going on, Joe. I want you and your brother to go with Ezra right now to the police station."

Joe looked around quickly. In the far distance, he saw Nancy. He saw a lot of officers, some who seemed pumped up on adrenaline, others who seemed downright confused. Still others seemed angry. He saw Officer Jacobs forcefully shoved to the ground, then hauled up almost immediately, handcuffed, and thrown in the back of another patrol car.

Everything was so confusing—only one thought was clear. "I'm not leaving Vanessa," he managed, his voice conveying the seriousness of his intentions.

There was an audible pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Fenton spoke, all anger dissipated, only a grudging acceptance and understanding in his voice. "Okay, son," he said. "Bring her. And I suppose Frank will want to bring Callie as well. Fine. Just—keep them away from Jacobs, and do NOT let them leave the sight of any of the other officers once you arrive. Okay?"

"Okay," Joe replied, resigned. "Dad? What's going on?" He stood straight up now and watched the conclusion to the scene unfold, watched as Collig signaled for him to come over. He held up a hand to him in acknowledgement and tapped Frank on the shoulder as he listened to his dad.

"Just come, Joe," the voice said. "Get going. Put the phone on speaker when I talk to you. I'll explain everything that I know along the way. Call me back in five minutes. And Joe?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Be safe—all of you." He hung up the phone.

As Frank turned to him, he relayed the information to him. Seeing Vanessa at the door, he reached for her hand, and Frank did the same with Callie. Slowly, shakily, all four made their way to Chief Collig and the awaiting police cruisers, not yet knowing all there still was to come.

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Arriving at the station and preparing to walk into the building, Joe shook his head in amazement. JACOBS was involved in this? How? More importantly, why hadn't he seen it?

He took a moment quickly to survey the scene. Already, media outlets had caught wind of some of the story and were beginning to descend upon the station. Wryly, he couldn't help but to think that Frank and Callie wouldn't be expecting any welcoming packages from their new neighbors anytime soon. Suddenly, the smile fell from his face. It wasn't funny.

This was supposed to be a time of happiness and a time of celebration for everyone, particularly his brother and Callie. They'd been together forever and, despite Frank's recent mistake, were the most rock solid couple he knew. Looking ahead, he saw Callie and Vanessa being escorted into the building. Callie was holding onto Vanessa's arm in a gesture of support, and it seemed to be working. Between his talk with Vanessa and Callie's quiet strength, Van seemed to be back on stable ground. He was determined to keep her there, and focused his energy on helping her, rather than killing Jacobs—and whoever else was involved in this mess. There would be plenty of time for that later.

He was concentrating so hard he almost didn't feel the gentle squeeze on his arm. He turned to the right, hesitant to pull his eyes away from Vanessa for even an instant, and noticed it was Frank, again looking out for him.

"You okay?" Frank asked as they walked towards the station.

Joe managed a small smile. "Yeah. I can't believe what Dad told us, though."

Frank stopped him and said seriously, "I know—and we'll find out in a few minutes more of what happened. But I meant, you know, from before—if you're okay." He finished awkwardly, but had managed to make his point.

Immensely grateful for having a big brother who always had his back, Joe managed a small laugh. "I'll be fine, Frank. I'm not losing it." Then he went on, more seriously, looking ahead at the girls, "I won't let anything happen to Van."

"I know you won't," Frank responded.

That was exactly what Joe needed to hear. He'd needed to know that someone still believed in him and his abilities to take care of others. As usual, Frank hadn't let him down. Instinctively, he reached over and patted Frank on the back.

Raising his eyebrows, Frank questioned him. "What was that for?"

"You're okay, Frank, you know that?" Joe responded. Then, not wanting to lose focus on the task at hand, he paused only a moment before adding, "And so is Callie. She's…" His voice faltered for a moment, thinking of all she had done for him.

"Amazing," Frank finished. "I'm a lucky guy."

Looking at his brother, Joe realized that Frank didn't even realize how true his words were. He didn't even think Frank had had the time to process that it was CALLIE who had saved Vanessa's life, held a ticking time bomb in her hands… that she had been seconds away from dying. Again, the great hand of Fate waved gently over his brother, and for that, Joe was immensely grateful.

"You sure are," Joe finally answered, and, with that, they headed silently into the station.

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The interrogation room at the station was buzzing with excitement. It seemed like everyone wanted to get in, to find out exactly what was happening. In the end, though, the only people who did make it into the room were Fenton, Collig, Joe, Frank, Nancy, and three other officers, all of whom seemed conflicted to have arrested their colleague.

They waited for Jacobs to enter, knowing that he was now being held in a different room, meeting with his lawyer and a union representative.

There was an uncomfortable stillness in the air… _a calm before the storm_, Fenton couldn't help but to think. Speaking of which…

Leaning over, he motioned for Joe to come closer.

"Joe," he whispered, "Are you okay to be here? Really? I have no problem filling you in on what happened. I understand if you want to be with Vanessa."

Joe sighed. He'd been asked a lot today if he was okay, and it reminded him that he had to try and control his emotions a little better. He didn't need his dad to lose faith in him—just because he had a fierce protective streak borne from a tragedy long ago that would forever alter his life.

"Yes. I'm FINE."

Fenton nodded and looked around the room before returning his eyes to Joe.

"How's Vanessa?" he queried.

Joe smiled. Even with what was about to go down, the unbelievable tension in the room and the fact that his dad had to be at the top of his game, he still took the time to ask about Vanessa.

"She's good. She will be, Dad. Thanks," he replied.

"Mmmm," Fenton answered, still trying to be quiet.

"Sorry I yelled at you before on the phone," he continued. "You and your brother drive me crazy by not picking up your cell phones at times. You're good most of the time, but when I can't get in touch with you—I worry. " He paused before a slight smirk came to his face. "If you were younger, I'd ground you," he whispered.

Joe snorted out loud. He felt the color come to his face as his brother and Collig looked in his direction, and then looked away, shaking their heads.

Putting on a serious face, Fenton stated firmly, "Behave yourself" loud enough for others to hear.

Holding back a snicker, Joe whispered, "Same goes for you."

Despite himself, Fenton smiled and looked around the room

Frank was sorting through files and Nancy was reviewing notes, looking troubled. Collig was tapping his fingers nervously on the table, seemingly in disbelief that one of his own officers could somehow be involved in a crime of this magnitude; in any crime, in fact. He'd always taken great pride in nurturing his force; these kids were like his family, and, though Jacobs was new to the force, Collig had always liked him. He therefore felt the blow personally and was on the fence as to whether or not to want to protect his kid—or to ostracize him forever.

Jacobs entered the room, his lawyer beside him and his union representative next to him. You didn't need to be a genius to see that he was scared.

Fenton leaned in, watching him. WHY was he scared-- Was he innocent or was he guilty? As lead interrogator on the case, he thought of how to begin as the lawyer went on a seemingly endless oratory about how Jacobs did not need to answer any questions, what the list of potential charges were, that Jacobs was a "person of interest" rather than a suspect, that the evidence to any crime was circumstantial at best, etc. Fenton could recite it; he'd heard these same lines used so many times before.

Finally, a very nervous Tom Jacobs interrupted his lawyer and looked directly at Fenton.

"Sir, I don't know what this is about but I'll answer your questions," he stated, plainly.

Fenton saw that this officer was young-- a kid, really, not much older than Frank or Joe. And he WAS nervous.

Fenton crossed his arms. He was direct. Everyone was on edge.

"What do you mean that you don't know what this is about?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

"You don't have to ans..." the lawyer began, but Jacobs said, "Stop! I didn't do anything! I'll answer whatever they want. I just—I just want this to be over." He was curling and uncurling his fists, but Fenton saw it was not in anger; it was in fear.

"How do you know Jimmy Dee?" Fenton asked.

Jacobs blushed. "I don't know much about him, sir."

"Ah, but you do," Fenton cut in.

Joe stared. His dad's ability to cut through crap was astounding. He'd found that out too many times as a teenager, himself. Even Frank studied his dad's technique. If nothing else, his dad commanded a room; his presence could not be ignored.

"You said you don't know MUCH about him. What do you know?" Fenton persisted.

"I know why he's here," Jacobs answered. "I know who he is."

"And?" Fenton cut in.

"What do you want me to say?" Jacobs threw his hands in the air in a frustrated gesture.

"I don't WANT you to say anything. I do want you to tell me the truth."

Frank looked at Jacobs. He looked totally confused.

Fenton sighed and decided to get to the point. "You had access to Dee in the jail. You were with Callie Shaw and Vanessa Bender at various periods."

"So?" he asked. "I don't understand. That's my JOB. I was ASSIGNED to it."

"Actually, you volunteered," Fenton responded coolly. "I checked the records."

Flushing, and seeing he'd been caught in a lie, Jacobs began to sweat. "Uh…"

"Right- that's not an answer," Fenton replied. Something was bothering him, though. This kid really looked scared. Deciding how much he could push, Fenton opted to let him have it and watch how Jacobs reacted.

"Explain that," he said, raising his voice a little, quickening the pace of his words.

"You're right," Jacobs said. "I… I knew the job would give me overtime, and I just wanted to make a little extra money because I found out my wife is pregnant," he tried to explain.

"You're not married," Fenton pointed out, grateful he'd done his homework.

"I... I KNOW…. But she's my fiancée, and you know…" his voice faltered.

"I do NOT know. Explain it," Fenton added quickly.

"It's just that we were going to ... get married… before the baby came, and it's just easier to say we're married now..." He flushed deeply.

"Anyway," Fenton said, "You know Dee. We have evidence that he called you on your cell phone several times, one night before each attack."

"What?!" Jacobs cried.

"It's true," Collig said neutrally. Fenton noticed at once that Jacobs couldn't meet his superior's eyes.

"What are you talking about?" he went on.

_This guy is either a really good actor or he's telling the truth_. Fenton just wasn't sure which one...

"Is your phone number 555-6754?" Fenton pressed.

Jacobs paused seeming to think. "Yes. Well, it WAS. I haven't used that number in months."

"Really?" Fenton continued. "And why is that?"

"Because I lost it." He looked down, knowing how false his story sounded.

"That's convenient," Fenton replied sarcastically. "And why didn't you report it? You ARE a police officer, after all."

"Because I figured nothing would get done. We see these cases every day, and barely any phones are ever recovered."

_Well, THAT's true_, Fenton concurred. A thought hit him, and he couldn't explain where it came from. "WHEN did you lose it?"

"Two months ago. I just got a new one."

"You were OFF the day of all of the attacks, EXCEPT for today's attack—and you were THERE- at the scene! Furthermore, the two packages that were sent to Ms. Bender and Ms. Schwartz were charged to your credit card. Explain that.

Shocked, he whispered, "I can't."

Jacobs looked up, and Fenton was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

"Sir," he said, voice trembling, "I know I sound ridiculous, but I swear with every fiber of my being that it is TRUE. I DID lose my phone—any one of the guys here could tell you that. I have NO IDEA what you're talking about. I did my duty to protect the people I was supposed to, and I am an honorable person."

"But…" Nancy was about to cut in, but Fenton held up a hand to silence her. He wanted to see what this guy had to say.

Surprisingly, Jacobs now looked at Collig, not Fenton. "Chief," he went on, quietly. "I don't know what this is about. All I know is that I have been humiliated and embarrassed in front of my peers. I have been accused of – what? Receiving phone calls?—and I have done nothing wrong. This—it isn't right."

Conflicted, Collig paused. All eyes were glued to him. Finally, he spoke. "You're right. We have nothing more than circumstantial evidence here. You're free to go."

"What?!" Joe cried. This couldn't be happening. Fenton grabbed his arm and held him back.

Jacobs stood up, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said softly.

Collig interrupted him. "But I'm sorry, Tom. You're on suspension right now. Don't leave the state, or the city."

"He knows the rules," Jacobs' lawyer cut in. "He's a cop." With that, the three men left the room.

"Dad! Come ON! That story's ridiculous!" Joe went on. Thoughts of Vanessa ran rampant through his mind.

Fenton motioned for the remaining officers to leave. Left alone with Joe, Frank, Nancy and Ezra, Fenton listed to his son, but then sighed, deeply.

"I'm sorry, Fenton. We had nothing," Collig finally spoke. "But we'll keep an eye on him- promise."

"Thank you, Ezra," Fenton replied, shaking his hand. "I know this was hard for you."

With a small nod of acknowledgement, Collig left the room.

"Dad!" Joe cut in again, on edge.

"Stop," Fenton sighed.

"That story is crazy, and you know it!" he added, getting angry.

"It is, Joseph. It's a crazy story. And you know what else?" he added.

"What?" Joe answered, trying to control himself.

"It's true."

"How can you be…" Joe began, but Fenton cut him off.

"Come on, Joe! THINK. Better yet, don't think. Instinctively, do you think this guy is involved?" he asked.

"Yes!" Joe answered firmly.

"Come on, Joe- no you don't. You can read people--probably better than anyone I know. Don't sacrifice an innocent man. If you do that, you let the guilty one get away."

His dad was right. Joe felt himself come down from his adrenaline high, frustration taking its place.

"Now if you were to think, what do we know?" He looked up.

Frank, who had been methodically going through the interrogation, answered his dad. "We know that his fellow officers could probably corroborate the lost phone story. We know that he'd be pretty stupid to charge a package containing a BOMB to his credit card. We also know that we have to verify the phone records to see the duration of the calls, and to see how Dee could contact the number, if not Jacobs personally. Also, we know that, if he was telling the truth, he lost his phone right before the attacks began. And..." Frank pointed out, "He DOES know Dee- somehow. I don't think he's being totally honest."

"Very good," Fenton nodded.

"And we also know one thing then," he added definitively.

"Yes- that he's been set up," said Nancy. "But how? And by whom?"

Shaking his head in frustration, but determined to solve this case somehow, Fenton turned to her and said, "THAT, my dear, is exactly what we're going to find out."

They all slowly got up, more bound than ever to return to their original research and end the madness. Fired up, they did not know that the worst was yet to come.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: As usual, thank you so much for all of your feedback and reviews. It certainly makes the process worth it. FYI-- the next chapter is one of the most major in the entire story. For that reason alone, I am releasing it both here and at HDA at the same time, so there will be a bit of a longer wait here (I THINK until next Thursday for the next one). However, after that, I will return to the 2/3 days update at max as I have done thus far! Thanks again!! :)_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 22

Later that night, Frank, Callie, Joe and Vanessa found themselves back at the house. This time, Chief Collig had ensured that there was ample police protection; he was taking no chances on anything more happening. Despite the horrible scenario earlier in the day, the remnants of which still remained vividly clear in the twilight hour, all four were glad, finally, to be together, finding security in each other.

As Frank and Joe worked together in the family room, trying to sort through details of the case, Callie and Vanessa sat together, upstairs, in the guest bedroom. Vanessa took one last bite of pizza and stared forlornly out the window.

"Van?" Callie asked, gently placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Are you okay? I hope…" She fumbled for words.

Vanessa looked up from her seat at the window and questioned Callie. " You hope what?"

With a sigh, Callie gave a weak smile. "I just hope that you'll want to continue to stay with Frank and me. I know it seems like you can't feel secure in your own home, wherever that is. But I promise you—Frank and I will do everything we can to make you feel safe. Besides…if there weren't enough cops outside already, I'm sure the neighbors are fully ready to call them on us any minute anyway, with everything that's happened," she joked softly.

Vanessa felt her eyes burn with tears, a feeling that was becoming all too common lately. Callie had a way, with her total support and kindness, of making Vanessa speechless. Instinctively, she reached over to Callie and hugged her tightly.

"Oh, Cal," she managed, resting her head on her shoulder. "You're too much, you know that? You and Frank don't deserve any of this. You're worried about me feeling safe? You're the one who…I mean… you saved my life!" She pulled back and looked Callie in the eyes. "If you hadn't taken the package outside, I… well, I can't even say it. Thank you—for everything. You're the best friend in the whole world and I love you!"

Blushing, Callie sat straight back. Like Frank, and decidedly unlike Joe and Vanessa, she wasn't used to these outpourings of emotion, this ability that they had to just say what was on their minds and hearts with no reservation. It was the quality that she perhaps loved best in both of them.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Callie finally answered, sincerely. "And you will be, you know—okay. It might take some time, but we're all here for you, especially that boyfriend of yours," she concluded.

"Yeah," Vanessa answered with a smile. "He's the best."

"His brother isn't too bad, either," Callie teased.

Taking a deep breath, Callie knew she had to gently broach a subject that she'd already discussed, albeit painfully, with Frank on the way back to their house this evening. Noting the irony of the fact that she was about to comfort Vanessa with something that she, herself, should need comforting about, she came out with it.

"Um, Van? I need to talk to you about something," she began.

Interest piqued, Vanessa raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I'm just going to be direct here, Van," she started. "As you know, in order to get to the bottom of everything, there's been a division of labor. Joe's researching Timms and Hughes, Frank is researching Dee, and Mr. Hardy is interviewing everyone—and no doubt doing research himself."

"Uh huh," Vanessa concurred. Then, she beat Callie to the punch. "And the point is what?" she asked.

Shaking her head at Vanessa's forthright nature, Callie let out a small laugh, but then prepared mentally for what she was about to say.

"The point is that in order to cover every angle, the reports from Leslie and Mandy need to be reviewed. And the other—victims—" she paused before continuing, "need to be interviewed as well. That means you and Charlotte."

"Okay," Vanessa agreed and patted Callie's hand. "Don't worry; I'll be strong. If Charlotte can hold it together…" she shuddered at the thought, "then the least I can do is recount everything again. Anything to help."

Seeing the opportunity, Callie seized it. "Anything?" she questioned.

"Yeah. Why?" Now Vanessa was interested,

_Here we go_, Callie thought before speaking. "Because Chief Collig and Nancy are in charge of the interviews."

"What?!" Vanessa asked, outraged, "I will not speak to Nancy Drew. You've got to be kidding me!" She stood up and began pacing the room.

Expecting this, Callie sat back, arms crossed, and listened to Vanessa's at times expletive- filled tirade about Nancy. Finally, she couldn't take it any longer.

"Van! Please stop," she cut in after what seemed like hours, but was, she knew, really only a few minutes.

"What?! Why should I stop?!" she countered, fire in her blue-gray eyes.

"Because, Van."

"Because why?" she answered, furious.

"Because she hurt me, not you," Callie finally answered, beginning to get a headache. This had been worse than she thought.

"No way, Cal. Not good enough," Vanessa answered. "If she hurt you, then she hurt me. That's what best friends are for. To get—ANGRY-" she paused, watching her wording, finally, "on your behalf."

Despite herself, Callie smiled.

"See? You agree with me!" Vanessa challenged.

"Thanks, Van. You're so loyal—you're just like Joe! Remind me not to get on your bad side," she answered.

"Never, Cal," Vanessa responded, finally smiling back.

"But seriously… you have to listen to me," Callie began, and she held up a hand to silence Vanessa as she was about to interrupt again.

"Nancy is good- very good- at what she does," Callie began.

"Apparently!" Vanessa answered sarcastically.

It was only when she saw the stricken look on Callie's face, even for an instant, that Vanessa shut her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt her best friend.

"Okay, Van," Callie conceded, warily. "You win. Look, I'm obviously very upset about everything that happened, and not just with Nancy—with Frank. Actually, even more so with Frank. He should have known better."

Vanessa just nodded, afraid to interrupt this conversation that was obviously painful to Callie.

"In addition, you know what? I like Ned. He's actually pretty nice. And he was every bit as upset as I was. But I've forgiven… and I've moved on. I hope Nancy and Ned have, too. I don't wish anyone bad. I just…I just want everyone—me, you, Charlotte, and everyone who knows us—to stop living in fear. I want this case solved, Van. I'm tired. I want to think about my house which, at this point, obviously needs some work." She smiled weakly before continuing. "And I want to have FUN again, and to plan for a beautiful wedding. I want to spend the rest of my life with the man I love and put everything behind me. So PLEASE—cooperate with Nancy, okay? I think everyone will benefit."

Vanessa looked at her friend, again amazed by Callie's strength, dignity and class. Here she was, trying to calm her down, when Vanessa knew that she should be reaching out to Callie and reassuring her.

"All right," Vanessa grudgingly agreed. "I'll do it. For YOU," she emphasized.

"Thank you," Callie answered in response.

With an evil grin creeping onto her face, Vanessa added, "but I still think I could kick her…"

"Eat your pizza!" Callie cut in.

With those words, they shared a small laugh, content to feel secure- finally- in each other's company.

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Frank and Joe, meanwhile, sat in the family room, dozens of files and papers spread before them. As soon as they had arrived back home, they had begun their research—and neither one had stopped, each lost in his own thoughts. Both of them consciously put the fear they had about Vanessa and Callie to the back of their minds in order to concentrate on the task at hand.

Finally, Joe let out a frustrated grunt and flung a file onto the coffee table. Leaning back in the recliner, he rubbed his temple, frustrated by the lack of progress he'd made.

Frank raised his eyebrows and gave a small smile. "I take it you haven't discovered anything new," he quipped.

Joe sighed, then responded, "No. I thought we HAD it, Frank. There's just so much evidence—and I know it's circumstantial, but it's there—that Jacobs is involved somehow in all of this. I know what Dad said, and I agree—kind of—but I still think he knows something."

Frank paused, considering, and then concluded, "I agree."

"You do?" Joe asked, surprised.

"I do," Frank responded. "I have to be honest—the thought that all of us, but especially Callie and I—spent so much time with that guy, kinds of gets to me. He seemed really… nice, I guess. It's hard to believe. I mean, EVERYTHING points to him being at least partially responsible for the attacks—somehow. But there's no DNA evidence to support it, and I think he was actually telling the truth about a lot of things. I just need to know how he knows Dee. And it's driving me crazy trying to find out. I have absolutely no idea how anything here is related." He raised his hands in a gesture of frustration.

Joe sat up straight again. Slowly, he was beginning to feel the old juices of adrenaline start to flow. Here, alone with his brother at last, he _felt _their connection, and had a feeling that as they both tried to work things out _together,_ they'd accomplish something at last.

Looking up, he saw the expression on Frank's face and the small nod of silent agreement on the topic he hadn't even vocalized.

Joe smiled. "Let's see if we can figure it out, huh?"

"Agreed," Frank answered. "So… did you find out anything new—AT ALL—about Hughes or Timms?" he prodded.

"No… that's the frustrating thing. They were all basically childhood friends. Collig had friends and family interviewed, and still nothing new. What WAS weird is that Hughes sort of disappeared for a while. He was involved in the rape of Leslie Smith, and presumably her murder, but the attacks on Charlotte and Mandy seem to have been carried out by Dee alone. Why would Hughes suddenly turn up and go after Van? It doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't," Frank agreed. "But that means he must have maintained some sort of contact with Dee. Still, subpoenaed phone records don't show that. I don't know… maybe he just got afraid and decided to eliminate any other witnesses?" he asked.

Joe shook his head. "No, that doesn't make sense. Even if he DID do that, why not start with Charlotte? She was the easiest to go after. Hell, he could have gone after Callie more easily than Van." He saw the look on his brother's face and paused for a moment before continuing. "Sorry, Frank, but it's true. Callie lives in her parents' house—or here—where there's little security. In my building, there are security tapes."

"Well, that's another thing," Frank interrupted. "We still haven't figured out what happened to the tapes at your place or at Van's work."

"I know," Joe agreed. "But Collig's on that. Hopefully, he'll get something."

Frank shook his head, exasperated. "Okay, let's revisit briefly what we know here about these guys. DNA evidence is NOT wrong—based on everything I've seen, no evidence was compromised at the scene or in the lab. So Hughes, Dee, and Timms raped Smith. We're ASSUMING, based on a confession, that it was DEE alone who raped and murdered Mandy and who raped Charlotte. There was no DNA; Dee used protection. Certainly it couldn't have been Timms—he's dead."

With a small smile, Joe chimed in, "Yeah, well—that would pretty much eliminate him."

Frank rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I'm not overlooking anything."

Joe laughed. "I'll remember that for next time; eliminate the dead guy as a suspect."

Blushing, Frank continued. "ANYWAY, that leaves Hughes, who appeared out of nowhere. We still have to figure out how and why. Did you look at HIS phone records?"

"I did, actually," Joe answered. "The only recurring number to his cell phone is a pay phone in Bayport—and you KNOW that that will be impossible to trace." He sighed in frustration.

"But it means, Joe, that SOMEONE has been in contact with him—presumably someone involved in this case. If he acted alone, we can't do anything except to figure out a motive. BUT, if he was working with someone, then we need to figure out who was making those phone calls, and why. And then we need to figure out why it's so important to continue attacking the girls. Someone is very afraid that Callie, Van or Charlotte will identify him. But I don't get it!" He slammed his hand down, startling Joe, who was unused to this level of emotion from his otherwise quiet brother. "Who IS there to identify anyway? Dee is in jail—HE committed the crimes! Hughes is dead now; so is Timms. So who is going after the girls, and why? It's pretty much a closed case from the legal perspective."

"I have no idea," Joe responded, evenly, to calm his brother down a bit. "Um... did Cal get any info about the UPS guy? That was pretty smart to check his ID."

Frank managed a smile. "Yeah, I told her to always be careful. Anyway, dead end there, too. Standard drop off and delivery. The guy wasn't involved."

"You sure?" Joe asked.

"Yup," Frank responded.

"Okay then—let's look at Jacobs again. Even if I think he didn't know anything, and you know that's not the case, why is someone trying to frame him? I mean,.. the one thing that IS clear is that he had access to Dee in jail. Do you think he'll talk?" Joe asked.

Frank sighed. "Probably not. He had a lawyer and a union rep with him. Dad pretty much read him the riot act. Collig has him on suspension. Why would he even cooperate?" Frank added.

With a shrug, Joe answered. "Well, if nothing else, he looked pretty eager to clear his name."

Frank looked doubtful. "OKAY…" he began slowly. "What should we do? Ask Collig? Dad? Have him called to the jail? Follow him?"

Joe looked perplexed. "Uh… I wasn't getting that complicated."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked. "What was your idea?"

"I just thought we'd—you know—go over and ask him," Joe finished.

"WHAT?" Frank asked, incredulous. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?" Joe prompted. "It'd avoid the hassle of a warrant, it'd get Collig off our case since he'd be none the wiser, we wouldn't have to listen to Dad telling us about harassing a suspect, and everything he told us would be perfectly legal since he'd be cooperating."

Frank stared at Joe for such a long moment Joe actually began to squirm in his seat. "What?" he asked, finally.

"That idea is so….weird, so outrageous, so against everything we've ever been taught… it might actually work," Frank answered in awe.

Joe smiled and got up. "I'll go tell the girls that we're taking a little trip," he answered. "Don't you love how I think outside the box?" he added as he turned to leave.

Shaking his head, Frank just muttered, "Way outside…" as he watched his brother disappear from sight.

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An hour later, Frank and Joe were sitting outside Jacobs' house, trying to come up with a strategy. Actually, it was Frank who was trying to think of a strategy; Joe was simply opening the car door and getting ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" Frank asked, still unsure of this crazy plan.

"To the door," Joe stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Unless you'd like me to break in some other way. Come on," he finished, and did exactly as he said he would, marching deliberately to the front of the house.

Cursing under his breath, Frank did the only thing he could… he followed Joe.

Arriving at the front door, Joe knocked as he noticed his brother stand beside him.

"What's the PLAN?" Frank whispered.

"I don't really have one," Joe responded with a shrug as he waited for the door to open. Before Frank could think of a response, he heard a creaking sound as the front door opened to reveal a very pretty young woman with red hair and brown eyes. It took Joe only a second to also notice that she was pregnant; Jacobs hadn't been lying about that.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," Frank responded, not giving Joe an opportunity to talk. "My name is Frank Hardy, and this is my brother, Joe. We, uh, talked with your boyfriend—fiancé- earlier today. Is he around?"

Suddenly, her expression grew wary. "Hardy, huh? You guys are the detectives who called Tom in today. He didn't do anything!" Her eyes showed nothing but total loyalty, and Frank actually felt bad for her.

Before he could respond, however, Tom Jacobs came up behind his fiancée and looked out onto the porch. "It's okay, honey," he said to her. "Wait inside."

"But—" she interjected; he simply repeated, "Really. It's okay."

Slowly, she turned into the house as Tom Jacobs walked outside.

"Frank, Joe. What brings you here?" he asked.

For a moment, Joe was shocked at his lack of hostility and the fact that he called them by their first names. Then again, he HAD spent a good portion of the last month on a pretty friendly basis with both of them. Joe felt conflicted. His gut was telling him to like this guy; his logic was telling him not to. Since he didn't have a plan of action, he spoke off the cuff, this time pre-empting Frank from speaking.

"We came to talk to you, Tom," he answered. "There're a few things we need to know."

Jacobs sighed and crossed his arms. "Why should I talk to you? Seriously. I said everything I needed to at the station. I told the truth. As a result, I've had nothing but trouble. I'm on suspension and I'm expecting a baby, which I need my job to provide for. Chief Collig doesn't respect me any more, and my otherwise pretty good reputation has been harmed. Why? Because someone is trying to set me up. And you don't believe me!" he finished, more matter-of-fact than angry.

Joe took the lead. "I … we… want to believe you," he answered, sincerely. "Don't forget, if you're telling the truth, it is terrible for you. We know that. But my girlfriend was attacked, and three important women in my life have been terrorized. No one wants to solve this case more than us, believe me. So—will you help?"

After a long pause, Jacobs shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I can't believe that you had the—guts, we'll say—to just come here and ask me!" he finally answered.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Joe simply said, "Thanks. So—will you help?"

"What do you want to know that I haven't already told you?" he answered, leaning against the porch wall.

"First, just verify a few things," Frank cut in. Before he got to the real question, he knew he had to show Jacobs that they had been listening at the station.

"Shoot," Jacobs replied.

"Your cell phone was stolen and you didn't report it. You had no knowledge of any calls being made to your phone. You volunteered to watch all of us as part of overtime duty to help your family, and it was pure coincidence that you were off when the attacks took place—and you have no alibi."

Jacobs bit his lip. "Yeah. I can't believe it, either. Who would want to do this to me? Do you have any clue?"

"No," Frank replied honestly. "Do you have any enemies?"

"No," he responded, a bit too quickly.

Frank and Joe looked at each other. Joe decided to just get it out.

"Tom?" he began. "THAT's why we think you're lying… about something. What aren't you telling us? Come on! Let us help you. If you're telling the truth, who are you protecting, and why?"

The brothers noted immediately the look of confliction in his eyes. Whatever he was going to say, he was thinking it over, weighing whether it would be more beneficial to stay silent or to speak.

Finally, after several minutes, he answered. "Off the record?" he asked.

Joe sighed. He HATED when people asked for things off the record. Still, the chance he had to take that this guy would reveal something to help Vanessa was probably worth taking. Before he could speak, though, Frank answered for him.

"Not totally," Frank cut in. "Let us talk to our dad. That's it."

Praying silently that Frank had not just blown their one opportunity, Joe was shocked when Jacobs answered, "Okay. But just your dad." He hesitated. "I hear he's a good guy. Maybe he can help me."

Frank nodded. "What were you going to tell us?" he asked, gently.

Jacobs sighed before answering. "Guys, a long time ago… when I was a kid… I got involved in some pretty bad stuff. It started out pretty innocently and then got progressively worse as I made friends on the street. We were KIDS," he emphasized, trying to make Frank and Joe understand.

"Go on," Joe encouraged.

"To make a long story short, I wanted to turn my life around. A lot of the guys I was hanging out with… well, I knew they were headed for jail—or worse. Some of the little crimes I was involved with, like graffiti or shoplifting, began to become more violent, like robbery and assault. I witnessed my "friends" involved in an assault on an innocent girl, and I wanted no part of it."

"You watched your friends rape a girl?"! Joe cried, outraged.

Jacobs looked confused for an instant. "No, not rape. A mugging. BUT—I could see things were getting more violent, and I wanted out before they got worse. So I … well, I turned on my friends and managed to get out. My family moved so I would be out of the neighborhood and away from bad influences. I thought I was away from everything."

"But?" Joe asked.

"But then I moved here, to Bayport, and I transferred to the PD here. I loved it! Collig is a wonderful man, and I thought that life was pretty great. Then I heard about this case, and I heard the names… and I KNEW."

"You knew what?" Frank asked, getting anxious.

"I knew that the people behind it were the people I grew up with. Three of the four of them seem to have gone down the wrong path. So, you see, I wanted to get on this case to protect you all from them—they're dangerous. And I knew Collig would never let me on a case where I knew the suspects."

Shaking his head and trying to process the information, Joe finally spoke. "Wait," he began, something clicking. "You thought Collig would find out about your past and use it against you, and that you wouldn't be allowed on this case."

"Right," Jacobs answered.

"But you also said that three out of four of you turned out for the worse."

"Yes," he answered again. "Once I got out."

"So… so there were FIVE of you?" Joe asked, making sure he heard correctly. "Who?"

Jacobs looked uncomfortable. "This is what I didn't want to get into," he said, softly. "My-- my ex-friend seems to have turned his life around, too, and the last thing I would want is for him to be implicated in any of this. We don't talk now, other than to acknowledge each other, but I don't want to ruin his life… like mine has been," he finished sadly.

"If he's innocent, he has nothing to be afraid of," Frank responded. "Who is it?"

Jacobs paused.

Joe picked it up. "You're the good guy here. Then there was Dee, Timms, Hughes, and?…"

Jacobs sighed. "I can't believe you didn't know this already," he answered.

"Know WHAT?" Joe pressed, sensing their first big break.

"Jimmy Dee."

"What about him?" Frank asked.

"Did you check his birth record?" Jacobs asked.

"No," Frank conceded. "Why? I have every other record on him."

"Because if you did," Jacobs cut in, "You'd see that he legally changed his name at sixteen. 'Dee' is simply 'D', as in the letter. His original last name…"

"Yes?" Joe cut in.

"Was Daley. He's John Daley's brother."

Shocked, the brothers could only stare at him….


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: I was going to wait until Thursday to post this chapter, but in hindsight, I have no idea who is even reading the story here or on HDA. So, for those of you who ARE reading, I will just keep posting here every 2-3 days as promised. This is one of three MAJOR chapters of the eight or nine left. And for those of you who did review, thanks..._

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 23

(There's a warning in this one….language, content, possibly tissue advisory)

The next morning, Frank, Joe, Callie, and Vanessa met up with Fenton at the police station. Despite the police protection surrounding all of them, Frank and Joe felt better having the girls with them at all times. After all, the last time Vanessa had been alone with a cop she had almost been killed. Worse yet, that very cop was turning into a prime suspect in the case. The girls would, they knew, at least be safe within the police station walls, even if Joe and Frank couldn't keep a direct eye on them.

Although they had promised Officer Jacobs only to reveal to their father what he had told them, that plan fell through almost immediately when Frank spoke with Fenton on the phone last night. As soon as Fenton heard about Daley, he insisted on notifying Collig. It was, he emphasized, the only way to fairly question Daley with any just cause whatsoever. Fortunately, Fenton also agreed to speak with Officer Jacobs who, albeit reluctantly, agreed to inform Collig of what he knew.

As Nancy came through the door upon being called in by Collig, the group was, once again, complete. This scene was becoming all too familiar for all of them… rounds of questioning that seemingly led nowhere. Still, for everyone's sake, they had to at least continue to try to get answers. They remained quiet while John Daley, a good half an hour late, entered the room, without a lawyer or any union representation. As it was his day off, he came in plain clothes, and sat down, calmly.

He surprised everyone by speaking first. "Morning," he said. "Chief Collig called me in this morning because he told me that you all had some questions for me. I hope you notice that I am here by myself, willingly, and that I want to help you in any way I can. So—go ahead. I have a pretty good idea of what you want to know, but I'll wait for you to ask; I don't want to incriminate myself or anything."

Fenton took a long moment to stare at John Daley, whose face was totally neutral and devoid of any affect. _That's weird, _he noted quickly. _Most people give themselves away immediately as either innocent or guilty. This guy is clearly a master of control. _The phrase that had just entered his mind transitorily stuck. _A master of control._

Taking a moment to acknowledge everyone at the table, Fenton gave each one a brief nod. They had all done additional homework, had researched every angle of this case, had re-interviewed witnesses… everyone had a part to play at today's meeting. THIS was it; they had to get some sort of break in the case.

Taking a deep breath, Fenton began. "Good morning," he replied, careful to mimic Daley's neutrality. "I'm Fenton Hardy, and this is Nancy Drew." He gestured towards her. "You already know Chief Collig, and of course, Frank and Joe." He again pointed at each one individually.

"Joe!" Daley said with a smile. "It's good to see you here—awake and alive."

Joe was torn. He didn't trust this guy; on the other hand, he had no reason – YET—not to, and he HAD saved his life. "Thanks," he finally managed. "It's good to be alive."

"Officer Daley," Fenton began, but was cut off at once.

"Call me John," he said. "If you want to know all about me, we ought to be on a first name basis, huh?"

_He's smug,_ Fenton noted, as did everyone else. _Why?_

"Okay, John," he replied, meeting Daley's eyes. They were such a dark shade of brown that they almost looked black. "I'm going to be real direct here. We all have a lot of questions and we're hoping that you have some answers for us. I assume you know your Miranda rights and that you're willingly here to answer all questions freely and on your own accord with no legal representation."

"Sure," Daley replied, coolly.

"Okay then," Fenton replied. _I'll play it his way. _He crossed his arms. "Let's start with why you're here. We understand that Jimmy Dee, who is currently incarcerated for the rapes of three women and the murders of two, is really "James Daley." He's your brother."

Not missing a beat, John nodded."Yes, he is."

"Well, why the HELL didn't you tell me that, Daley?" Collig cut in, fuming. "I never would have allowed you to take part in a case—as a protector for the victims, no less—if you were related to the accused!"

"That's why I did it, boss," John answered, coolly.

"Did WHAT?" Now Collig was angry. His officers were like his children, and this was the ultimate betrayal. He felt confused and mortified, like he'd been played as a pawn in some sort of game.

John shrugged. "Listen, someone had to look out for my brother; you know, make sure he was treated fairly and all. What harm did it do anyone? As a matter of fact, if I recall correctly, I actually saved Vanessa Bender and Joe Hardy's lives. I think you should be thanking me, not getting on my case."

"What the hell?!" Joe barked angrily. "You might have saved my life, yes—but it's your fault that it was in jeopardy to begin with! You LEFT the apartment, allowing Hughes to get in!" As soon as he said it, he KNEW it was true. Somehow, Daley had ALLOWED Hughes to get in. Joe needed a moment to process the thought.

Daley smiled. "Come on, now—you don't honestly believe that I'd let an old friend come in to hurt anyone, do you? And let's call Hughes what he is—or—was. I know that everyone here knows about my past, thanks to Jacobs. But I'm cool with that. It's no big deal, really. It's over."

Fenton couldn't believe how unaffected this guy was, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling, which he couldn't yet place, that Daley was far more involved in things somehow. He didn't like having to question and think about something new, even if it was just a feeling, at the same time, but that was exactly what he was going to do.

"Joe, I'm going to cut you off here," Fenton said. "We'll get back to where you were going in an instant, but let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

"Go ahead," Daley responded. Fenton noticed at once that it was a challenge, not an invitation. Immediately sitting up straighter, Fenton prepared for battle. The tension in the room became increasingly thicker.

"Why don't you come out with it, Daley," Fenton began. He would now use his last name; a first sign of the power struggle.

"What would that be?" Officer Daley asked.

_This is a damned game to him_, Fenton noted, getting angry himself. If there was one thing he could generally control, it was his temper. He needed to in order to function. Looking up, he saw Daley's smile and felt ill at ease. _He's knows he's getting to me,_ Fenton thought, and immediately forced himself to look—to feel—in control again. He couldn't—they were dead even.

"What do you know about your brother's involvement in the case?" he started.

Daley burst out laughing. "Ah," he replied. "The great Hardy family—along with company—can't figure out even the most basic thing. This is kind of fun, actually."

Frank noted the appreciative look Daley gave Nancy along with his comment and felt his own temper begin to rise. Nancy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Then something clicked with him… what WAS it?

"Enough with this nonsense!" Collig shouted. "Say what you need to say, Daley, or I'll—"

"You'll what?" Daley asked, so calmly, so chillingly, that the moment seemed to stand still. He then went on. "Let's face it. You have nothing on me. You have no legal reason to keep me here. I just wanted to help you out, that's all." He plastered a grin on his face. "But for my own amusement, I'll listen to you—I'll even answer your questions. And Chief?" He looked directly at Collig. "My resignation starts when I leave this room."

"You can't resign- you're fired!" Collig shouted back, furious beyond words.

Somehow, Daley had managed to ignite a fire in everyone's eyes with his icy responses and demeanor.

"You can't even do that," Daley responded, almost bored. "There's no legal basis and I could easily fight and win the right to hold onto my job. What would you say? 'I didn't like the guy- he made a fool of me'? I don't think that would stand up in court."

"You son of a--" Collig began, but was grabbed by Fenton.

"Don't let him get to you," Fenton whispered fiercely in his friend's ear.

"Such bad language. Really, how… unprofessional," Daley countered.

Collig was about to teach this guy what unprofessional really was…. But he knew if he did that, then Daley would win. Storming away from Fenton, he clenched his hands… and sat down.

Looking at Daley, Fenton knew he'd met his match. This guy was smart… but maybe he was too smart for his own good. Although he had no reason to believe anything at all that Daley would say, he had a feeling that if he could keep him talking, then maybe – maybe—he'd hurt his own cause.

Having nothing else to go on—Daley had been right, there—Fenton opted for the truth. He didn't care if he LOOKED like a fool to Daley; he knew he wasn't one.

Looking directly in his blackish eyes, Fenton leaned forward. "Okay, Daley. You've got me. You said you'd play along for me, so I'm going to ask you questions, and I hope you'll help me out."

"That's it?" Daley asked. He looked almost disappointed.

"That's it." An idea crossed Fenton's mind. "I mean, of course you KNOW we have nothing on you. I mean, YOU didn't do anything, right? It was all your brother. So tell me—why don't you walk out the door right now? You're a free man." He raised his eyebrows in cool expectation.

Daley didn't move. _Bingo! _Fenton thought. _He wants to play a game. He wants me to know that he did something and to know I can't prove it. His actions have just admitted guilt. But to what? We really have nothing. _He waited, wanting to see if Daley called his bluff.

He didn't.

"What do you want to know?" Daley asked, for the first time looking the slightest bit unsure.

"What do you want to tell me?" Fenton asked, trying to make Daley feel as though he was in control. _He thinks I know more than I do_, Fenton realized with a start.

"You said you wanted to start from the beginning," Daley replied. "So I assume you know about Leslie Smith." His mouth twitched a bit at the name.

"We're not in the habit of getting dirt on rape and murder victims. We try to focus on the CRIMINALS," Fenton answered, directly.

"She was a bitch," Daley said, and Fenton noticed at once the strange, almost possessed look Daley got in his eyes. _He knew her! He knew Smith! _

"Watch it!" Collig stormed, but stopped immediately once he looked at Fenton. It took a moment, but Collig realized he was about to witness Fenton's genius in action. From the look of it, his sons weren't far behind.

"Your brother knew her," Fenton answered, inferring it from the response. "And so did you."

Daley chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, you know—my brother had all these problems with chicks growing up. He was always real sick and they treated him like shit. Then he met her, you know? She was real pretty. Just when he was thinking about getting serious with her, she DUMPS him—just like that. Said it wasn't him, it was her-- damned clichéd line. Had to teach her a lesson."

Fenton's heart was beating wildly in his chest. He hadn't remembered to check on Jim's health record. Had Frank? And then, normally cool, confidant Daley was starting to look different, to speak differently; he wasn't even using complete sentences. He was being purposefully vague, and a feeling of horror was beginning to sneak up on Fenton.

"WHO had to teach her a lesson?" he asked. His mind was whirling. Now it made sense. The first victim, Smith, was STABBED, a far more personal killing than later shootings.

Daley just smiled.

Fenton, startled, jumped back.

"No," he whispered as pieces of the puzzle began swarming around him.

"You mean…" Joe could barely breathe.

"I don't mean anything," Daley responded.

"No!" Joe yelled, pounding his fist on the table. "That's impossible!"

"What is?" Daley responded smugly.

"NOW it makes sense!!" Joe gasped in horror. "YOU had access to the security tapes at Van's work—at our HOME! You—you knew HUGHES!" It was all he could do to stop himself from flying over the table.

"So?" Daley asked.

"Oh my God!" Nancy cut in. "When we looked at the evidence, Timms was killed by a blow to the head. Physically, your brother couldn't have done it!!" She raised a hand over her chest. "And when I spoke with Charlotte, she distinctly remembers that – the monster who did this to her was strong, not sick—and TALL!" She stared at Daley, who stood close to 6'2", and tried to catch her breath as light dawned on her. "And according to Vanessa's initial police statement, she said you had a bad cough. Were you—were you trying to disguise your voice?!" She couldn't believe her own ears.

Collig paled as the implications of what was being said began to hit him. "My GOD!" he bellowed. "When the report came back that Joe Hardy had been shot with YOUR bullet, I didn't think anything of it."

"WHAT?" Fenton and Joe cried together.

Collig turned to them. "I didn't even think to mention it!" he went on. "If there were gunshots fired, who cares where they came from? I thought it was self-defense! And you KNEW Hughes! Of course you did! You probably contacted him. But not from your cell phone! NO- you're too smart for that. From some random pay phone in Bayport. DAMNIT! You DID let him in. But then…" Collig was speaking so fast that he could barely process what he was saying, "You KILLED him. And TIMMS! You killed them both!! WHY?!"

"Wait," Frank spoke up, thoughtful, in direct contrast to the madness that was unfolding before him. Yes, everything was making sense, but still- there were too many holes. He tried to work though his thought process.

"There are a few things that do make sense, but still some things that we can't overlook." He met Daley's eyes, who seemed to be watching everything unfold with a mixture of uncertainty and amusement. Frank felt a chill when he looked into Daley's eyes. _The eyes_. One of the holes. He'd worry about that in a moment.

"Let's see what else we know, Daley," Frank spoke. "Your brother was never a violent criminal. The idea that he would suddenly become a rapist and a murderer wouldn't make sense, even if you're trying to make a case that he had motive because Leslie Smith dumped him."

As Frank spoke, Joe swore he could see the wheels turning in his brother's head.

Frank continued. "IF you had a criminal past, it never showed up. That doesn't mean you're innocent; it just mean you never got caught. ESPECIALLY," Frank pressed on, "If you had a fall guy."

Frank got out of his seat and slowly started pacing the room. Almost unconsciously, they all, including Daley, followed him with their eyes.

"Yes," he began, the puzzle pieces beginning to come together. "If you killed Hughes and Timms, no one would testify against you. THAT'S why Nancy mentioned to me in the report that Hughes seemed startled to see you when you were in Joe's apartment, according to Vanessa's memory and testimony. You set him up, didn't you? You used Vanessa as bait so he could 'have' her. You tempted a desperate man, knowing you'd come back—and kill him. Then you made it seem like it was all an accident with your ridiculous donut story that seemed too crazy to be true -- so much so that no one would even think you were so stupid as to use that for an excuse!"

Joe could barely contain his fury, but was still mesmerized at his brother's calm demeanor and methodical thought process.

"So now you're rid of Hughes and Timms," Frank went on, running a hand through his hair. "Somehow, you got your brother to confess to the rapes of Leslie, Mandy and Charlotte, and the murders of Leslie and Mandy—but he didn't do it, did he? You set him up, and he allowed himself to be set up—that's why he drove directly towards the cops. You raped Mandy and Charlotte alone, though- didn't you? But you left no DNA evidence. Then…" Frank was growing more and more agitated, "you had to try and CONTROL the rest of the victims. Because rape, you know, isn't about sex—it's about POWER. As a result, you tried to control Vanessa and Charlotte through fear, for no other reason than your own perverse pleasure. You sent the packages! And you had no alibi, either—but you set it up so that no one would notice and we'd all be too focused on Jacobs to care!"

"God!" Nancy cut in. "That's how the boxes were charged to Jacobs' number!" she realized. "You were in close enough proximity, weren't you, to steal the credit card and to replace it. Then—you also stole his phone, didn't you?! That's why the dummy calls that your brother made reflected Jacobs' number, but never lasted more than a few seconds. You purposefully created a false paper trail!" Nancy could barely believe the genius—the sick mind—involved in all of this.

"But you never targeted Callie. Thank God you never had a chance!" Frank was furious.

Daley just smiled.

Joe felt his stomach drop. Frank didn't see it, but Daley had just admitted that something was up. He'd been late, hadn't he? Where WAS Callie? Joe stood up at once.

"There's just one problem," Daley said with a smile. "Although this has been a very interesting little speculation on your part, you have no proof of anything. You don't think my brother is going to verify your little idea, do you? I don't think he's capable of that, anyway."

_What the hell does that mean?_ Fenton thought immediately,

"Furthermore, you have no confession from me—at all. You have no evidence. DNA shows my brother committed the crimes. I'm sure you know the logistics of that, Frank, don't you?"

_He's taunting Frank,_ Joe realized again. Something in his gut told him it was intentional- why?

"It's bothering you, isn't it?" Daley went on, happier and more relaxed than he had been. "HOW could DNA be wrong? Before you speculate, let me assure you, and I realize you already know this—that my brother and I are not twins, identical or otherwise. Doesn't that blow holes through your little theory? Oh—and you know, IF I was still on the force, that I would protect your little Callie as I did Vanessa."

The color rose to Frank's face. _He's playing him_, Joe realized at once, but, before his protective nature could kick in, Daley turned to Joe.

"I was happy to protect Vanessa for you, Joe. I'm just sorry that she—that YOU – aren't grateful. You should hold on to her. I'd hate to see something happen to her like it did to—Iola, is her name?"

Joe stiffened. "You motherf—"

"Joe!" Collig cut in. Then he did the most painful thing he ever had to do in his life. "You're free to go, Daley."

"No!" Joe cried.

Fenton took a deep breath. "Yes, unfortunately."

"Good luck," Daley said, and left the room with a flourish.

Fenton looked around. He'd been played. Collig had been humiliated. Nancy had felt embarrassed. His sons were on the verge of total confusion, having been shaken to the very core. But Collig was right—there was no evidence, and not a damned thing could be done.

"I'll have him followed," Collig grunted, storming out of the room.

"I can't believe it! DAMN IT!" Frank called out, throwing the chair in front of him to the floor, furiously.

Joe looked out the window, at a loss. Then it hit him like a brick wall. Where had Daley just gone? Where the HELL was Callie?

Frank happened to look out the window, too, unconsciously following his brother's gaze.

Then he saw her. Callie was in the parking lot, seeming to be focused on a task at hand. She had looked straight at him, as if knowing he was there, and he could see there were tears on her face.

He didn't think. He followed his instinct to get to her, to find out why she looked so distraught. He didn't realize he was jogging now, as he left the building. Joe, on the other hand, did know, and paced right along with his brother.

_The explosion was deafening._

It took Frank a moment to register the scene unfolding before him. For a moment, one sweet, transitory moment, it seemed to him that he was watching a scene from a movie unfold. It was too bright, too powerful, too surreal actually to be happening.

But it was.

And just as illusory as that moment was, reality came upon him even faster. Snapping back to his senses, he started to run, his feet carrying him faster than he ever thought possible. He felt his heart thumping in his chest; at the same time, he knew he was suffocating, unable to breathe. For once in his lifetime, he didn't think. Instinct took control. Sprinting fast-forward in slow motion, he saw himself heading towards disaster. And he didn't care. He had to reach her. Now.

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"Oh. God."

Joe watched his brother disappear into the fiery flames. Ten minutes ago…five… two…. the day had been still and silent, and everything that seemed to be of the utmost importance, things that had seemed life-altering, no longer mattered.

"This can't be happening." He felt the words emanate from his mouth. Then he could not talk. He could only run, praying that Father Time would grant him just a few minutes more.

He saw the bomb explode, the car disappear in a tornado of flame and shrapnel and glass. He saw her, going towards the car, keys in her hand, angry. Hurt? Resigned?

Images whirled in his mind as he chased after his brother. Had this happened before? Was it happening now? What was real and what was not?!

Finally, carried by some unnatural force, he caught him, diving on top of his brother, who immediately shoved him off. Had he always been this strong?

Flailing, he tackled his brother again. As they fought, fists swinging, he could barely discern him… all that remained was a ghost beneath him, covered in ashes, struggling, as he was, gasping for breath.

"Let… me… go."

It HAD happened before. He began to lose focus.

He broke out in a sweat, waiting for the nightmare to end, as usual.

But it didn't.

Only this time, he was on the other end.

And it was happening.

Again.


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Thank you so much for all of you who left reviews! The story gets pretty intense, but there are surprises along the way. Thanks for continuing to read-- I appreciate the feedback!!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 24

_Four hours later._

Ezra Collig took a shaky breath and leaned against the police building, a place that had served very much as his second home for almost a quarter of a century. Normally, it was a place that brought stability and comfort. But not now. Now, as he looked around at the wreckage of what once was Callie Shaw's car in the parking lot, and saw the swarms of officers and medical personnel trying to get everything in order, he could barely believe that he even knew this place.

Swallowing hard, he placed his shaking hands in his pants pockets. He couldn't articulate his thoughts; all he knew was the tremendous guilt that was weighing heavily in his heart. _I could have stopped this. I SHOULD have stopped this._

It was all too much for him. His once acclaimed officer, a young man whom he'd treated as his own child, had seemingly betrayed him; had somehow become a criminal of the worst kind. Or had he? Had everything that had gone down hours ago in the building been an illusion? After all, Daley's brother had confessed. DNA evidence had proven his guilt. Really, they had nothing on Daley.

But it didn't matter. Daley was gone now, presumably killed in the car explosion. Callie Shaw was dead, too. And along with her tragic, still incomprehensible death, were the shattered remains of a family he cared very, very deeply about.

Looking over, he saw Fenton Hardy head toward him. Nodding his head slowly, he acknowledged his presence.

Fenton approached, his pale face barely masking the deep despair and pain in his eyes. Fenton stood next to him, and raised his own trembling hands to his eyes, rubbing them, seemingly trying to gain some insight, some understanding, as to what had just happened. He was speechless.

For a moment they were not detective and Police Chief, but two old friends joined in a shared sorrow too deep for words.

"We'll look after Frank," Ezra managed.

Fenton nodded and turned slowly to his friend. Ezra was shocked to see the tears in his eyes.

"What'll happen to my boy now? I... I thought this could never happen again."

Ezra reached over and slung an arm around Fenton's shoulders. "We should go," he managed in response.

Fenton shook his head in disbelief and exhaled a shaky breath. How would he do this? How could he? But he had to. And he hoped to God he had the strength to carry through with it.

Together, Ezra and Fenton headed over to the awaiting police cruiser. They had to tell the Shaws, in person, that their daughter was gone.

They both wondered if this was what it felt like in hell…

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Joe sat inside the building in Chief Collig's personal office, having been escorted –ordered- there close to a half hour ago. He knew that an officer was guarding the room outside, creating a mini jail, not letting him out on his father's orders. It didn't matter; he had absolutely no strength left to fight anyway.

Staring forlornly out the window, he inadvertently flashed back to the events of the last few hours.

_Frank. _

_He remembered using every bit of strength he had to hold his brother down and that no matter how he tried, he couldn't do it. With seemingly superhuman strength and an equally steely resolve, Frank had broken free. In absolute horror, he watched as his brother headed for the inferno._

_Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone tackle Frank again and take him down. How, he didn't know. At once, he got up and started to run for his brother. The heat was overwhelming._

_Before he could even get started, he felt arms grab him around his chest from behind. What the HELL was happening?_

_"LET ME GO." He shouted those words, over and over, caught in the moment; caught in the past._

_The arms didn't move. _

_He was strong; he knew that. What—who—was holding him back?_

_He felt himself being dragged backwards as he fought all the way._

_"Stop. STOP!" A voice whispered—shouted?—in his ear._

_He didn't stop._

_It wasn't until the car and the fire was a good deal in the distance that the fight left him. For a moment._

_He felt the arms tighten on him from behind. _

_"Frank's okay. He's OKAY."_

_It was his dad._

_What? What was he talking about? The silence all around him, despite the primitive movements by officers he was beginning to see all over, was astoundingly deafening._

_The world was on fire. His soul felt like ice._

_Suddenly he didn't know what was real or make believe any more. If Frank was okay, why did he have an overwhelming NEED to get back to that car?_

_Confusion reigned. He felt sick. _

_Suddenly, his dad turned him around and held him tightly._

_"No—no," Joe managed, trying to break free._

_Fenton held him tighter. Since when was his Dad this strong?_

_"She's gone. Joe, son, she's gone." He said it again and again._

_At once it dawned on him and he felt his knees go weak. Were it not for his father, he would have collapsed on the ground._

_His dad was not talking about Callie._

_Then reality hit him with such force he felt his breath taken away. It was NOW. This was not Iola driving him to the brink of madness. In some weird and cruel twist of fate, Callie had just suffered the same fate as Iola._

_He actually felt his mind begin to split, his current self fighting his seventeen year old self. He needed his big brother. NO! He had to save his big brother! Iola! Callie! Screaming. Silence. Fire. Ice. What was real? I can't breathe. I can't BREATHE._

_The thoughts descended upon him, overwhelming him with grief and confusion. _

_He didn't know where it came from, but all at once he found himself sobbing on his father's shoulder. "Daddy," he cried. He hadn't called his father that since he was five._

_Fenton just held him for who knew how long? Five minutes- ten- an hour? Time had no meaning._

_His dad had somehow led him into the building, guiding him slowly. He had no more fight in him. He would have moved heaven and earth to get to his brother, but his dad's words echoed over and over._

_"Joe," he'd said as soon as they were inside. He would have wondered where everyone was, but it dawned on him that somehow his dad or the Chief had purposely cleared the room, giving them space._

_He'd put his hands on Joe's face and met his eyes._

_"You need to get yourself together, son."_

_God, Callie had said the same thing not a day before._

_Now, though, Callie was gone._

_As his dad looked at him. Joe saw the fear—the terror—in his eyes and he realized that he must have frightened the hell out of him. As if the whole scenario wasn't torture enough, he knew his dad feared for him that he had really lost his mind. It almost made him smile, but it didn't. Instead, he wanted to cry. He felt so vulnerable, and he loathed it._

_Finally, he calmed down and forced himself to breathe deeply. He was spent, exhausted to the bone. But he was sane, and his dad saw it. All he had to cling to were his father's words._

_"You okay?" Fenton asked finally, releasing him and freeing Joe to sit down at the desk._

_Joe nodded._

_"You listen to me, Joseph." Fenton's words were forceful despite the fact that his voice was trembling._

_Joe had no choice but to look; to listen._

_"I am having Frank taken to the hospital as we speak."_

_"Wh- Why?" he stammered. Then he knew and he turned cold again. _

_Suicide watch._

_Fenton didn't answer, but continued. "I need your help, Joe. Please," his dad begged._

_Confused, Joe could only stare._

_"If I lose you, I lose Frank. He NEEDS you, Joe. I… I don't know how to help him. Only YOU can do that. This… this burden I'm placing on you to save your brother—I know it's not right. But Joe," his father went on, tears in his eyes, "I HAVE to ask. You're both my life. And even someone as strong as your brother might not get through this. Callie is DEAD." He choked on the word._

_Joe felt tears slip onto his cheeks._

_"Be strong. Be STRONG," he emphasized. "I know we all want to die ourselves right now, but I can't lose you—either of you."_

_Wiping at his eyes, Joe weakly stood up and gave his father a hug._

_"You won't," he managed. "I just need a little time to sort things out. I just saw my whole life flash back into a nightmare, and then I learned that it's real. Again." He met his dad's eyes. "I'll get to Frank. I HAVE to." He meant it._

_"Thank you," Fenton whispered, hating himself for the burden he had placed upon one son to save the other. Rubbing the back of Joe's head, he whispered, "Your daddy loves you."_

_He turned and left the room, leaving Joe to fight his demons so that they wouldn't make their way to Frank._

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Joe barely had time to recover from his reverie before there was a frantic, hurried knock on the door. Just as he turned his gaze from the window, he saw a police officer nod to him in acknowledgment as he ushered a still sobbing Vanessa into the room. As soon as she entered, the officer politely turned away and closed the door.

"Joe!" Vanessa bellowed, tears running down her face, streaking her mascara. The effect was almost comic as the raccoon eyes looked out. Yet it was not remotely funny, as he saw at once that she looked like a wounded, terrified animal that was caught between attack and defeat.

At once, he gathered her in his arms and pulled her close. Feeling her shaking and trying to control her body wracked with sobs was almost too much for him.

_Be strong. _His father's words—Callie's words—echoed over and over. _If I believe it, maybe it'll come true._

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, she pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes, both hands still clinging firmly to his.

"Wh—Why?" she managed.

"I don't know," he whispered, squeezing her hands.

"B…but I can't believe it! I don't know how much more I can take," she sobbed, releasing Joe's hand only long enough to wipe her red- rimmed eyes.

"I know," Joe responded softly, surprised at the strength his voice was conveying despite his own sorrow.

"No, I mean it." Vanessa stood up and took a few shaky steps, pausing only long enough to stare out the window that Joe had just come from.

_I hope she finds the meaning in the sky that I couldn't, _he prayed silently.

He stood up, carried, it seemed, by some supernatural force, and stood behind Vanessa, again wrapping his arms around her.

"I lost my dad once," she said softly into the air, not moving her eyes from outside. "And I thought that was the worst thing that would ever happen to me. I prayed and I prayed, every night, to have him back. I was angry, you know? And bitter. And I hated life and me and-- and HIM, for leaving me." She shook her head and shuddered as the memories came flooding back.

Joe squeezed her tighter, saying nothing. Vanessa never spoke about her past, and he knew that she needed to say what was on her mind.

She surprised him when she turned around and faced him. It broke his heart to see her in this much pain. The only comfort that he could offer was to share in it.

"I moved to Bayport and slowly, I adjusted. But it wasn't until I met YOU that I thought life might just be worth living again." She smiled sadly, shakily, but went on. "And through you, I gained an extended family. And now… Callie…"She choked back the name. "I lost my best friend, Joe. I lost… my sister."

Joe just reached out and held her. The last phrase she'd uttered ran through his mind, and he forced back the lump in his throat.

"I know," he said at last, pulling back to look at her. "But I can't bring her back. I just hope to God I haven't lost my brother, too."

They stayed together, united in suffering, for a long, long time.

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Hours later, Joe found himself outside the psych ward waiting to see his brother. His dad had called him, barely able to speak, to let him know that Frank was apparently being uncooperative and trying to get out. Fenton had left it up to Joe to decide if Frank should be released.

Now, as his dad and Vanessa waited outside in the lobby, Joe took a deep breath. His brother was in the PSYCH ward. His brother, probably the most sane person he'd ever met, the man who, as a kid, had convinced him that there were no demons or monsters to be afraid of in the dark.

_That's because he hadn't known darkness. That's because the monsters had never come to get him._

Tears burned his eyes and he took a few moments to compose himself. Despite his father's, Vanessa's, unwavering faith in him to get through to Frank, he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say, to do.

He desperately tried to remember how Frank had pulled him through all those years ago. Had he done anything special? Had he said the right words? Or had he just—been there?

The events of the day were overwhelming. He'd thought of Iola often over the years, felt the pain of her loss deeply, but time had helped him heal the wounds. Or maybe it wasn't Time. Maybe it was Vanessa. Frank. _Callie_. Again, his eyes burned at the thought.

What the HELL was he supposed to say? _I'm sorry. I want to cry, too. I loved her, too, Frank. It'll be okay. _Yeah, right. That would be the biggest lie of all. If there was one, tragic fact that was a certainty in all of this, it was that his kind, lighthearted, genuinely good brother would be forever altered by this day.

And he couldn't stand it.

He wanted to break into pieces for the second loss of Iola in that fiery flame. For his brother, who didn't yet even know pain. For Callie, sweet, funny, innocent Callie who was so senselessly taken away. And though he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to cry for himself, for losing a brother whom he knew would never, ever be the same.

Taking a deep breath, he composed himself again. He hadn't seen his brother until this point. He decided to do what he did best—wing it, and pray that he could handle the outcome.

He knocked on the door and entered, not waiting for a response.

Of all the things he was expecting, this was NOT it. He had prepared himself to have Frank silent and brooding, to watch him, for the first time, completely break down. He'd been prepared to be a punching bag, or a safe haven. He was prepared to let Frank talk or to sit with him in silence.

What he hadn't expected was to see Frank sitting on the recliner, papers in his hand, looking—acting—perfectly normal.

"It's about time you got here," Frank said, annoyed. "They have this 24 hour thing that won't allow me to sign myself out. I couldn't get a hold of Dad. Are you ready to go?" He stood up.

Shocked, Joe could only stare. Finally he managed, "What are those?" referring to the papers in his brother's hand.

"The release forms. I've already filled them out and taken care of insurance issues. Okay? Can we go?"

"Uh…" Joe stammered, feeling like an idiot. Insurance forms? Release papers? Ignoring the fact that you almost died, the woman you were going to take as your wife was dead, and the fact that you were being locked up in a hospital?

Sensing his brother's confusion, Frank smiled. He SMILED. "I'm not crazy, Joe."

"But…" Joe whispered.

"Yes?" Frank asked, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

"Frank, Callie…." He began, but was silenced at once by Frank.

"She's fine, Joe. I just have to get to her."

"What?!" Joe cried. "No, Frank. She…"

"Stop!" Frank cut in with such forcefulness that Joe was stopped mid-sentence.

It was then that he saw it. Somewhere, deep, deep in his brother's eyes, flashed the most transitory flash of pain, of recognition. It was so quick that he almost didn't notice it. But he did.

_Frank knew._ He was in such a deep shock he was beyond numb, allowing himself to pretend to survive.

_God, I did the same thing_.

In that one moment, Joe's world changed. His brother stood in front of him, confidant and secure, hiding a truth that would shatter him to the core, a truth so deep it didn't want to come out.

But he knew it would come out, eventually.

And who was he to bring it about faster than necessary? If this is what it took to save Frank even one moment of pain, it was worth it. He didn't need to grieve now; he'd have a whole lifetime for that.

He knew what he needed to do. "So where do we go from here?" he asked Frank, who looked unconsciously so relieved that Joe felt his heart break.

"There are so many unanswered questions," Frank went on. "I still need to assess the DNA angle. We still need to understand Daley's involvement in everything, as well as Jimmy Dee's. I want to know what happened… why she…" His brother's voice broke for the smallest instant, "was upset. I need to know. I need closure. Because I need to get to her. You understand?" His voice sounded factual, but it held the faintest undertone of pleading.

He DID understand. He wished he didn't.

All roads would lead to Callie, one way or another.

"I'll help you," Joe managed. It was the truth, after all.

"We can go?" Frank asked, stated.

"Yes," he answered. His brother was in his own personal jail, living with a sentence that had been so unfairly handed down to him. A death penalty. What did physical walls matter anyhow?

And if it helped Frank to get answers, as inconsequential as they now were, so be it. They gave him a reason to hope. And that gave him a reason to live.

As they signed out, Joe rubbed his eyes, exhausted beyond anything he'd ever felt in his life. He went to follow Frank, who was already heading to the elevator.

He glanced at the clock. 11:17 p.m.

September 28th.

Then it hit him. As Frank descended on the elevator, Joe fell to his knees.

It was years ago at 11:17 a.m. that his life changed forever.

She was here. He FELT her.

Iola.

And it would have been her twenty-second birthday.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews. dreams of Leilani, Reney, Phoeonix, violetsunshine, dr. drew, ukfan101, Risha, Helen, and franknjoe, especially for the reviews of the last chapter. They are very much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. There's some darkness ahead... but don't lose hope for good to emerge! There are 6-7 chapters left. Thanks again!!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 25

Joe

As he stood outside on the porch of his parents' house that night, Joe couldn't help but to stare out at the clear evening sky and wonder why, despite all the unspeakable tragedy that had happened in literally the last twenty-four hours, everything seemed so calm… so normal. It seemed wrong – almost cruel—somehow, that life continued to go on, seemingly oblivious to the pain and the shock that had just entered his world.

It was hard to believe that life had turned itself upside down in the last day. Here he was, chilled despite the warm end of summer season, and realizing that nothing would ever be the same again.

_Callie was gone._ He could barely register the thought, much less expect his brother to understand and to cope with her tragic death. Callie, who had done nothing but to love and support his brother unconditionally, stand by Vanessa's side as her best friend, and steadfastly prove herself as a friend and confidante to anyone who was lucky enough to have met her, was now dead, struck down in a cruel twist of fate that had also taken his first love long ago.

Pulling his light jacket tighter around himself, he felt a sad smile tug at his lips when he thought unexpectedly of Callie and their history together. From their arguments as teens to their closeness today, Callie had always been sassy, funny, and intelligent. Moments flashed before his eyes. Long days at the beach through the years, picnics, countless double dates with Vanessa … with Iola… Callie had proven herself to be worthy of Frank's devotion time and time again. He saw her smiling and laughing, hanging out with Vanessa, and, above all, always being with Frank. _Frank and Callie, Callie and Frank._ It was virtually impossible to think of one without the other; they were so closely connected.

Through the years, Joe had always had confidence that, through their adventures and bond, no one knew his brother better than he did. It was for that reason that he let Frank see the REAL him because, like it or not, Frank would always tell him the truth, set him straight when he was out of line, offer advice, tease him… and set the bar high for friendly competition. His brother was his idol, his best friend, his hero, really. But deep down he knew, had to admit, that Callie probably knew him just as well. After all, didn't he share a secret world with Vanessa? Wouldn't Frank do the same with Callie—whom he'd been dating for almost a decade?

_What will he do without her?_

Joe pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It was too painful for him… but it plagued him still.

_What will __I__ do? _He thought suddenly, and immediately chastised himself for his selfishness. Still, he couldn't help it. He loved Callie, too, for many reasons-- countless times she'd bailed him out of trouble with his brother. She was one of the only people who knew, truly, how he'd loved Iola, and every year she was there to share herself, openly and freely, and to help him remember Iola as she really was. Heck, she'd just stopped him from making one of the biggest mistakes of his life by bursting in on Vanessa without having his head on right. Above all, Callie was one of the most sincere and genuine people he'd ever met, and he would miss her terribly, not simply because every time he would think of her from now on, he would be forced to think of her death… which made him think of Iola… and made him deal once again with horrible demons he thought he'd conquered long ago.

_What will__I do? _Again, the question haunted him. This time, though, it was not because of Callie's death directly, but because of Frank. Joe felt the sting deeply already. He saw, underneath Frank's shock, that his brother would be forever altered. He was different already, and Joe was… lost. There was no other word for it. His easygoing older brother who was quick with a laugh, eager to always help others, sincerely – nice—was dying. That light that had always been there, even in the toughest of times, was gone. The light of what? Innocence? Idealism? Whatever it was, Joe knew without a doubt that it would soon be replaced with doubt, with cynicism, with a genuine understanding that sometimes the bad guys won, and that things in life just might not happen for a reason. After all, didn't that imply that people got what they deserved? Did Iola deserve to die? Did Callie?

He knew now that he had to be strong; that eventually he'd have to play the role of the big brother. He didn't know if he wanted to, if he could—because he'd never do as good of a job as HIS teacher.

He thought of Vanessa, probably tossing and turning in his childhood bedroom, needing him to be there to hold her. He wanted to and he would. Now was NOT the time to think about himself. He would head up to see her soon—after he checked on his brother. With a deep sigh, he turned to go into the house.

He stopped only long enough to gaze out at the clear, unobtrusive sky that was alight with stars at this late hour. He couldn't help but to think of how they looked like twinkling candles on a birthday cake, and he knew, then, that Iola was with him. He didn't fight it and he wasn't afraid. Instead, he chose to embrace her spirit, knowing she wouldn't hurt him and that she would give him strength. He'd never been particularly religious, but he'd learned to know there was a God out there somewhere who'd made Iola his guardian angel. She was trying to tell him something. He KNEW it. He just didn't know what or why.

Taking one last glance at the stars above, he bid Iola a happy birthday, wondering how the ice crystal stars could be made of fire. If fire and ice, opposites that should destroy each other, can co-exist, he thought, maybe there's a line between hope and despair that would allow him, all of them, to survive.

He turned slowly and walked into the house.

Frank

Frank sat up forcefully, heart pounding in his chest. Struggling for breath, he clenched his fists and frantically turned his head around, trying to gain some sense of what was happening; where he was. It took him only an instant to realize that he was in his old house in the bedroom he'd had since he was a kid. It was only another few moments before he realized that he'd just awoken from a terrible nightmare.

Trying to breathe evenly, he shuddered as a cold chill ran through his body. Why was he here?

Involuntarily he flashed back to the nightmare that had just haunted him. A flash of light, of fire… screaming… a sense of loss and helplessness so deep it actually hurt to think about. _Of course_, he surmised at once. _It's Iola's birthday._

Every year, around this time, he would always have a flashback to that moment. The haunted, elusive look in his brother's eyes that had changed Joe forever would appear… and then thankfully, Frank would wake up and his lighthearted brother would be there, without Iola…. but, finally, with a sense of peace that came after many years, for which Frank would always be grateful.

This time, though, it was different. This nightmare had been worse than any other. This time, it was HE who was racing towards the fiery wreck, and it was CALLIE who he was trying desperately to get to. Another chill passed through him and he sucked in a breath.

_Callie. Where WAS she_?! Looking around the empty room, he truly expected her to be there. No, she wouldn't be. She would have let him go to Joe on this night of the year, being around his brother… just in case.

He closed his eyes and inexplicably felt his lips tremble. The need to hold her was overwhelming and all-consuming; literally, he ached for her. What was going on?!

He flushed suddenly, caught between chills and waves of heat. Struggling to breathe, he got up from bed and looked out the window. His fists remained balled up in terrible tension that he didn't even realize he was feeling. His heart continued to pound like it wanted to break apart.

Confusion reigned.

At once, bits and pieces of -- something—flashed through his mind. A hospital? A fire? Collig. Dee. Joe. Something holding him back—from what? Why? He felt his eyes burn with unshed tears.

What the hell was going on?!

His dad. Joe. Iola. Vanessa. Nancy. Callie. Again, his heart skipped a beat.

Daley.

Daley!

All at once, Frank whirled around, desperate to grab onto something to get him focused. He turned on the light. He had no idea how he knew it, but he knew that his dad would have left files for his perusal in his room. When or where or why or how he had no idea, but he knew they would be there.

They were.

Sitting at his desk, he fought the panic that was trying to get to the surface. Why? _I must be getting sick._ In some way, he knew it was true.

Ripping open the files, he remembered tidbits of conversations that had happened- when? He didn't care. He knew he had to find something out, and when he saw it, he'd know it.

A knock on the door.

Annoyed at the disruption from the task he knew somehow that he had to complete, despite not knowing why, he looked up as the door opened. He felt his face soften as he looked at his brother. Suddenly, he remembered again about Iola's birthday, and tried to neutralize his fears and to get back into big brother mode. The thing was, he couldn't. To do that, he'd have to be in control of his emotions, and he wasn't. Still, for Joe, he tried to fake it.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice sounded strangely foreign to his own ears.

Joe looked shocked.

"Are YOU?" Joe finally answered in response.

_Am I? _He wanted more than anything to reach out to his brother, to ask him what was going on, to help him find the missing pieces of everything around him. He'd always been a person of logic and reason and nothing now made sense. But there was a sense, deep within him, that wouldn't let him ask Joe anything. Whether it was because he wanted to protect Joe on this day, or whether he really didn't _want_ any answers for some reason, he didn't know. All he could do was to stare dumbly at his brother.

Joe looked at him with—pity? That didn't make sense. But it was there. No—it was more than pity. It was… empathy.

Suddenly, he felt very hot. He wanted to turn away from Joe's eyes, but he couldn't. They were like looking into his own.

Finally, when the silence became too much, he opened his mouth. He wanted to tell Joe that everything would be okay, that Iola was watching. Again, he knew it was true.

So when he spoke, the absolute last thing he thought he would say came out. "Callie…." He whispered.

_What?!_

The next thing he knew, Joe was at his side, pulling up a chair. He didn't try to hug him; somehow, he must have known that, for some reason, human touch would be unbearable now for Frank. He said simply, "I know. And I'm here. Don't forget that." Joe's voice sounded different, too.

Still, even though he didn't know what he had meant, what Joe had meant, he knew that Joe WAS there; for something. And it gave him some comfort.

He nodded.

At once, the moment was broken as Frank found himself turning to the files at his desk. He needed to get control the only way he knew how to; to get lost in the world of facts and figures, to find order in the simplicity of numbers and science that to so many was elusive, but to him was intrinsically beautiful, a puzzle that always had an answer, that could be explained… unlike so many other things in real life.

He wanted to tear through the files, understand DNA and crime scenes again, draw a map and understand that it had a destination and would reveal its answers in its own time. The need to understand was dire.

At once, he was reminded of Joe's presence as his brother also picked up some files. Like… like he understood what even Frank couldn't fully.

"I'm here to help," he said with such sincerity that it made Frank's heart ache again. The double meaning of his brother's words were crystal clear.

Together, they looked through files, each seeking answers to questions that had not even yet been asked.

Vanessa

Sitting up on the bed in Joe's old room, Vanessa wiped the tears from her eyes again. She looked down at her shaking hands and wondered if peace would ever find her again. How—How could life change so suddenly? It didn't make sense.

A few months ago, joy filled everyone's lives as they prepared to celebrate Frank and Callie's wedding that had been so long in coming. The summer was full of promise, of laughter and hope, of genuine fun. The future had never looked brighter. Vanessa choked back a sob as she thought of it. During the past year, as the wedding had loomed closer and she and Joe had conspired to drag out the wedding fun as long as possible, she had thought she'd seen a change in her boyfriend.

It had been little things. He'd begun to talk about "their" future, had subtly hinted at things they would laugh at "when they were old," had called their moving in together a "memorable first step." She'd never pressured Joe to get engaged or married; really, she was happy just being with him.

But a small part of her dared to hope, was secretly jealous of the fact that Frank and Callie were finally taking their first step towards forever. She found herself overjoyed, living vicariously through Callie, who, despite her reserved manner, was, Vanessa knew, bursting at the seams with joy. She WANTED that for Frank and Callie. They loved each other deeply in a secret world where, it seemed, they had each other first and foremost. The thing was, she also had that world with Joe. And she couldn't wait to follow Callie down the aisle – someday. Now, she knew, that day might not come. Joe would have to save Frank, and then himself, like he had once, long ago, with Iola…. And where would that leave her?

Sometimes, although she loved Joe dearly and knew he loved her, she still felt that she could not compare to the ideal of a memory that Iola represented.

Now, too, Callie, her best friend, was gone. On the surface, they had nothing in common. Vanessa knew she was loud, outgoing, and a bit of a daredevil, while Callie was reserved, sweet, and "fine on solid ground, thank you," as she'd always said. Callie had gone to an Ivy League college; Vanessa had gone to a community college and then on to a four year school. She loved computers and graphic design; Callie didn't even know how to import a file. Vanessa wore the latest fashions; Callie always wore perfectly tailored, expensive and classic pieces. Vanessa only had her mom; Callie had both of her parents.

But, like so many things in life, appearances were not reality. Vanessa smiled sadly, recalling how she'd gotten to know Callie, slowly, over the years. In time, they'd become the best of friends. Callie was far wilder than anyone would anticipate. She had a dry sense of humor and an unassuming presence which often made people underestimate her; but she was one of the smartest people Vanessa had ever met, and kind and generous to a fault. She was also silly and pretty much always up for a good time… a side of her that few other people knew.

She had helped Vanessa through the hardest of times in her life, from the truth about her father, which only Callie and Joe knew, through dealing with Joe's early reckless behavior as a kid after Iola's death, to being a loyal and steadfast friend. They were two only children who had found a family in each other. In every way except blood, they were sisters.

And now, she was an only child again.

Yes, time changed everything. The glorious months turned to fear filled weeks, but they'd been okay. Until today… until today.

Burying her face in her hands as she waited for Joe, she started to sob.

Nancy

Nancy sighed deeply and turned to look at the clock.

3:00 a.m.

Taking a deep breath, she turned on the light at the corner of desk in the room that she'd now shared with Ned for the better part of a month. What had started out as a weekend trip to help an old friend on a case had turned into a nightmare beyond words.

She'd become obsessed with this case and it had almost cost her the relationship that she valued more than anything. Even now, Ned should be sleeping, but somehow he understood that she needed to work and he had slipped out, telling her with a rueful grin that he'd pick up a double shot of espresso for them both at the local coffee shop since it would be a long night.

How could she have wronged him so deeply? More importantly, how could he still love her? Her eyes filled with tears as gratitude overwhelmed her.

The horror of what had happened at the station house was burned into her like fire. She'd never seen such devastation, such shock, on everyone's faces. She was sick with the thought of what had happened to Callie, and it broke her heart to think of the pain that Frank would be going through right now… what all of the Hardys, the Shaws, everyone who knew Callie, must be going through.

She'd come to realize what she should have known all along; that although she loved Frank, it was in a very different way than how she loved Ned. What if it would have been Ned who had died on a case involving her? Even if it wasn't her fault, could she ever really forgive herself?

Was that what motivated Joe still?

Nancy realized with a start that although she knew the Hardy world, she wasn't a part of it directly. That was okay—they weren't a part of her world directly, either.

And no one could live up to an ideal.

Frank would never know, would never care, that she liked dark chocolate and hated white; that she liked her coffee with flavored creamers and exactly two packets of sugar; that she won second place in an expository essay contest as a high school senior, or that she hated the smell of roses.

Frank would never know or care that some friends had hurt her feelings in college, or that she preferred the mountains to the beach, or that, deep down, she kind of liked scary movies.

And unlike Frank, Ned had been there through all of that, to hold her and support her, to happily take second place in the glare of the spotlight, to tell her that he'd "take care" of guys who started rumors about her.

Because Ned was REAL to her, and Frank was not. Frank was the lure of the "other," an idealized conception of himself. He was a handsome, funny, incredibly smart, athletic, and all around great guy… but he probably had faults, too. Maybe he suffered from incurable hiccups when he laughed, just like her. Whatever it was, he wasn't Ned, who was both real and ideal to her.

And it had taken this case to show her that.

What she did know, though, was that Frank needed her help right now—they all did, even though they couldn't ask for it, and understandably so. And she planned to help.

She also knew that she did have a connection with Frank that was uncanny; that he was like her in many ways.

It was because of this that she knew that the only way for Frank to go on with anything was to want answers, because that's what it would take for her to go on, even for a small while.

Despite everything, there was still a case to be solved. She couldn't do it alone. She might never understand the workings of DNA that Frank could, might not have the keen intuition of Joe or Fenton, but she did have a sense of both timing and people… and she knew how the past could affect a person.

With those thoughts in mind, she took out a notepad and began to retrace the history of John Daley.

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_….Who, far away, looked at his reflection in the mirror as he removed his now useless colored contacts and stared at ice blue eyes. He smiled. It was done._


	26. Chapter 26

_Thank you all, as always, for your wonderful feedback. Missy, violetsunshine, sparks, angry penguin, bookwork, Dreams of Leilani, Rini, Aurora Danon, Reney, and FranknJoe, I'd write back to each of you individually, but it would take too long right now! :) At the story's conclusion, I definitely shall! Thanks so much for your support. Everyone have a wonderful July 4th!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 26

Vanessa stood at the empty park late the next day, hardly believing she was there. Never in a million years would she have thought that her life would be falling apart at the seams right now.

Her boyfriend was beside himself, trying desperately to be strong for both Frank and her. He was doing a good job, too—but he couldn't hide the fear that haunted his eyes as he spoke the words she'd needed to hear. Frank was lost—there was no other word for it. He'd barely emerged from the Hardys' house and, were it not for the fact that he was spending some time with Joe, Vanessa would have sworn that he was already a ghost. Vanessa could barely imagine the pain that the Shaws were in right now. And finally, there was her. If it wasn't for Joe to support her in a private time of grief or Fenton, her other "dad", to be there for her in more public times, she didn't know what she would do.

She knew one thing, though—she wouldn't do this.

As terrible as the last day and a half had been, as unbelievable as events were, it was just as far-fetched that she would be here now, waiting to speak with the woman she had grown to hate in the last month.

Looking up at the sound of approaching footsteps, Vanessa watched as Nancy Drew came up to her. Nancy stood directly in her path, but said nothing for a few moments. Finally, she spoke.

"Thanks for meeting me here, Vanessa," Nancy said in an even tone.

Vanessa didn't know it, but Nancy's heart was beating quickly in apprehension and awkwardness. Were it not for the fact that she had learned to disguise her emotions through the years of being a detective, she would have revealed herself fully. She owed it to the Hardys to at least try to help when she could.

"You said it was vital," Vanessa replied. _It damned well better be. _

Nancy took a deep breath. "It is, Vanessa. I need to talk to you about a few things. I… I can't tell you how sorry I am--" she began, but was cut off at once by Vanessa.

"Shut up," Vanessa spat out.

"Excuse me?!" Nancy sputtered, startled.

"I said, shut up," Vanessa went on, still fighting the tears that never seemed to stop flowing. "You could care less. All you wanted was Frank—you probably wanted Callie out of the picture all along! And now she's… she's..." Vanessa choked back a sob and wiped at her red -rimmed eyes.

_She's mourning. Let her grieve. _Nancy said nothing for a few moments and then chose her words carefully. Gently, she began to speak. "I know what you think of me, Vanessa. And I'm sorry, I really am." She met Vanessa's eyes. "I wish I could tell you that you're wrong about me; that Frank is my FRIEND and nothing else. I wish I could tell you that I'm a pretty nice person, and the last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt Frank, to hurt Callie—to hurt any of you."

Vanessa went to cut in, but Nancy held up her hand. Something about her posture temporarily silenced Vanessa. Nancy went on.

"But I won't say that you're wrong, because I DID mess up and I hurt everyone in the process. More importantly, though, I'm asking you to talk to me because right now is not about me- it's about finding justice for Frank and Joe and everyone else involved. Nothing can bring Callie back, and I am sincerely, genuinely sorry for all of you… but I think I know Frank well enough to see that he'll need some answers. And I think you know Joe well enough to see that he'll need Frank. So please—talk to me. I know the case might not be important at all in the scope of things, but it may eventually bring a little peace to people who need it."

Vanessa felt her lips tremble as she tried to remain composed. What more could she say? Maybe Nancy COULD help; and if anything would help Joe, ANYTHING, she was all for it.

"I still don't like you," she managed, feeling an innate need to stand up for Callie, but knowing how childish she sounded.

To her credit, Nancy didn't retaliate. Instead, she replied, "Fair enough. Will you talk to me?"

Slowly, Vanessa nodded her head in affirmation.

Nancy motioned for Vanessa to sit down at a nearby table and reached into her briefcase for several files. Slowly, she spread out some papers before Vanessa.

"Okay," Nancy began. "I need you to tell me, to the best of your recollection, one more time what John Daley said to you in your apartment before your attack. Even the smallest detail could be important, no matter how trivial it seems." She kept the words neutral and matter-of-fact from years of experience.

Vanessa sighed and recounted her story again.

Nancy nodded, then looked up. "Right. But I need to know more of what he SAID. His mannerisms. What—you might have said," she added softly.

"What?" Vanessa asked, surprised. "You don't think I did anything, do you? I mean, Joe was shot! I would have never…" She struggled for words.

"No, no!" Nancy responded quickly. "Listen, Vanessa. I'm going to tell you the truth, and I don't want you to feel bad. When you- when anyone- is dealing with especially dangerous criminals, they're manipulative beyond belief. They get you to talk and reveal information that the normal person wouldn't even deem suspicious. Through what seems like mindless banter, they extract the smallest of details to use against people. Of COURSE you didn't do anything wrong; I know that. You're a victim. But I'm trying to find out what he could have used against you—and Callie-- to get to you both. Okay?"

Vanessa swallowed hard. To think that she could have contributed to Joe's injury, to Callie's death, was unspeakable. Still, she understood why Nancy was asking her the question, and, in some way, she appreciated her candor.

Vanessa spoke at last. "He asked to go to the bathroom."

"He did ultimately go, right?" Nancy asked.

"Yes," Vanessa responded. She was too tired and too much in sorrow to even try to think of where Nancy was going with this. That was Joe's line of work for a reason.

"Go on," Nancy encouraged.

"He talked about how it was nice to be treated well by a girl. He coughed a lot. He kept referring to the fact that he thought that I might think he was weird. He said he'd just recently broken up with a girlfriend and was new to the dating scene again. He was kind of awkward and made a really bad joke about the bathroom. He said he might be assigned to watch Callie tomorrow. He caught me daydreaming a bit. I… I guess that's it."

Nancy shook her head. She saw it and it was crystal clear to her exactly how Daley had gotten information from Vanessa. She didn't want to hurt Vanessa, but she had to tell her the truth and hope that she worked with her.

"Vanessa," Nancy began with a small smile, "He was telling you that he was watching you and Callie. He was alluding to his past, which I'll explain in a moment. Vanessa, in your bathroom, do you keep personal items? Like pictures, maybe? Candles? Medicine?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Vanessa asked.

"Yes," Nancy replied. "But let me guess. Do you or Joe have, or have ever taken, anti-anxiety medication?"

Vanessa furrowed her brow. "I haven't," she said honestly. "I think that maybe Joe…." Suddenly, she covered her mouth with her hand.

"I bet you also have pictures in some visible view in the living room—at least one picture maybe—of Iola, right?"

Vanessa nodded, forcing back tears.

Nancy wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but she knew now that it wasn't appropriate. Still, she went on. "It's not your fault, Vanessa. Obviously, Daley had done his homework on you. The attack was staged, and we already know that he planned to kill Hughes AND to kill Joe. He shot Joe, not Hughes; he just missed. Daley just wanted to mess with you and he would have come back to finish the job had not Callie come up. He's sick, Vanessa. That's why he killed and raped Leslie and Mandy, why he raped Charlotte—and why he would have raped or killed you too, eventually."

Nancy paused, and then collected her thoughts before trying to make Vanessa see what she did.

"He let Charlotte live for a reason; so he could terrorize her. He did—just look at the bomb sent to her apartment! Your attack was a setup, but don't be fooled into thinking he wouldn't have gone after you, too. He sent a bomb with your name on it to Frank and Callie's house. He shot your boyfriend. He was just waiting and watching. Rape, you know, is about control and power, not sex. Isn't that what he was doing to you?"

Vanessa whispered, "yes."

Nancy went on. "Callie was the only one left out. Think of how much time the both of you spent with him, alone or with the Hardys. Iola probably came up somewhere along the line. I'll bet so did Joe and Frank's closeness; it's pretty apparent anyway. When he missed with Joe, he decided to get to Frank—through Callie. Daley has serious issues with women. Anyway, when he went to your apartment, it probably took only minutes to finish piecing everything together. If Joe still appeared to be taking anxiety medication all of these years later, even if he wasn't, what could it do to Frank, who'd spent far longer with Callie than Joe had with Iola? He made you talk, Vanessa, without realizing you realizing it. Plus, he was a COP—he had access to all sorts of information. The whole thing was staged. And if he was alive right now, I swear I'd bet my life that you'd still be in danger."

Vanessa was freely crying now, not caring how vulnerable she looked to Nancy who had, quietly, reached into her purse to offer Vanessa a tissue.

"But he's dead," Vanessa replied in a quivering voice.

"Yeah," Nancy replied with a sigh. "That I still don't get. If he was planning on killing Callie, why kill himself? I mean, even if he knew he was caught, we honestly had no physical evidence on him, and he knew it. It seems pretty careless for a thoughtful, and I mean the term literally, kind of guy."

Vanessa choked and managed sarcastically, "Unless he faked his own death."

To her surprise, Nancy met her eyes dead on. "You're right. Which is why I want you to be especially careful until we have proof of his death."

"What?" Vanessa cried. "But that means…"

"It means that he might be alive. It also means you might be in danger, more than you think. And it also means…."

Vanessa gasped and dropped her purse, "That Callie might be alive, too!"

"Stop," Nancy replied at once, noting the look on Vanessa's face. It was as if she had just awoken from a dream. "This is all a private theory, Vanessa. Please, PLEASE don't get your hopes up. Chances are that Callie really is …gone. And I know that Frank and Joe would have contemplated that possibility, too, had not they been so…preoccupied."

"I can't let it go at that!" Vanessa replied, grabbing Nancy's hands forcefully and meeting her eyes. "If there's any chance at all…"

Nancy smiled wanly. "I know. I'm with you. But you need to listen to me carefully; please," she began. "There's a lot about Daley's past that you and the Hardys don't know. Well, Frank might know a little, and Mr. Hardy might, too. But I need to run it past them—past Joe, too," she quickly added. "And I need Frank's help on this DNA angle and Mr. Hardy's insights on Jimmy Dee. I need you to get me the hook to see them, but not to disturb them in their grief. It's not my place. I need them to know that I am trying to help solve this case for closure and for no other reason. I cannot raise their hopes now when probably nothing will come of it. Help me, Vanessa."

Vanessa looked down at her hands intertwined in Nancy's, and she was instantly brought back to Callie holding her hands just days before, offering her some comfort in her despair. Then she looked up and, for the first time, saw no deviousness or deceit in Nancy's eyes; just someone who really seemed to want to help.

"I'm sorry," she managed.

"So am I," Nancy replied.

"Let's go," Vanessa said, getting up. "I think it's time we paid the boys a visit."

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Callie fought back the fog, the pain, and the general confusion that seemed to surround her. She wanted, above anything, to open her eyes, but they felt like dead weights. She was caught in that rare state which is exactly at the center of awareness and sleep and she couldn't seem to push herself in either direction.

_Please, _she whispered mentally. _Help me._

Then, at once, she found that she could open her eyes. Her head still ached terribly, but there was a feeling of clarity that hadn't been there before. As she tried to get her bearings, she looked up and found a young girl, a teenager, staring at her with concern in her eyes and a reassuring smile.

She sat up tiredly, looking around. Where was she? Was she in a forest? How? All around her were trees and dirt. Her body ached, although the pain began to subside and she found that she could speak, slowly.

"Where… am I?" she managed. Her throat felt so dry she could barely speak.

The young girl offered her a can of Coke that Callie reached for and greedily gulped down. Coughing, she managed to catch her breath as she looked at the teen before her.

"Shhh," the girl said calmly with a smile. "You're all right. Help is on the way."

"Who… where…" Callie tried to find the words but was hit with a wave of dizziness and nausea.

"I'm Erin," the girl said and gently put her arm around Callie, helping her to lie back down. "You're on Interstate 95, about 20 miles outside of Bayport. I was driving along and I saw a car at the side of the road; saw someone push you out. It's pretty steep and a bad fall."

"But…" Callie whispered, trying to get her bearings.

"It wasn't your time," Erin smiled. "I guess someone was looking out for you. It was your lucky day. Well, kind of…" she added sheepishly.

Callie closed her eyes. Her whole body ached, especially her head, but she was surprised at how clearly she could understand Erin's words. Nothing made sense. The last thing she remembered was Daley coming to get her; some horrible news. She remembered seeing Frank and then overpowering heat, pain… and nothing. And here she was, in the middle of nowhere, looking into this stranger's eyes that felt so comforting.

"Are you hungry?" Erin asked her, pulling out an apple.

"N…no thanks," Callie managed, having opened her eyes weakly. "I have to call… my fiancé…"

"He'll know any minute," Erin responded, again with a smile.

Callie managed to weakly sit up. "But… how?" she stuttered.

Erin smiled. "I called for help. You'll be okay. Really," she continued. Then she stared into Callie's eyes and held her gaze.

Unable to turn away, Callie found herself smiling and at ease, some of the pain disappearing.

"I guess he's pretty special to you, huh?" The teen went on. "That must be pretty great to have someone love you so much. Don't let that go. That kind of love lasts forever."

Callie took a shaky breath and held onto her weak smile. "You're pretty wise for a kid. You seem to know a lot about love."

"I do," Erin replied. "Trust me; it never goes away."

At once, Callie felt a flash of pain course through her body and she could barely catch her breath. She felt Erin's arms around her as she laid her gently on the ground. The last thing she remembered was trying desperately to make out the girl's features, but in the glare of the late afternoon sun, all she could see was a bright ring of light around her face. Her last conscious thought was how much the girl looked like an angel….


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: So many of you have been so kind in providing feedback and encouragement. Thank you!! I believe there are 5 chapters to go... and questions begin to get answered here. Thanks for yoru continued reading and support!--Cheryl_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 27

Joe stared forlornly at the papers spread out before him on the kitchen table. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he did know one thing—he'd promised his brother that he was there to help, and he was bound and determined to stick to his word.

_Frank. _Joe raised his hands to his temples and rubbed them thoroughly. It had been less than two days since… everything… but in that time, his whole world had changed. Of course, he didn't expect Frank to be able to cope with everything right away. He knew, better than anyone, that healing would take years if it ever came at all. But Frank's reaction to Callie's death was so extraordinary that he honestly had no idea how to help his brother at all.

Taking a moment to take a sip of soda, he sat back and stared at the ceiling. He wished more than anything that his brother would at least begin the process of grief; THAT he could deal with. He thought that he could handle Frank's anger pretty well. He even thought that he could handle it if Frank broke down completely, even though Frank never had done that before, and it would be frightening to deal with. But this denial was so strong, so ingrained in his brother that Joe honestly had no idea what to do.

_Was I like that? _No, he didn't think so. When Iola had died, he'd become a lot of things; bitter, angry, resentful, reckless... but determined. Then again, he had to put things in perspective. He'd loved Iola very much, but the love he now felt for Vanessa as an adult was much stronger and more intense. He wondered for a moment if he told Vanessa often enough how he felt, and made a mental note to do so. Deep down, he knew Iola would be okay with being second in his life. After all, they had only been kids. Who knew if their love would have lasted? He paused to consider the irony that his love for Iola had only grown deeper through her death than it may have in life. Still, he pledged to honor her memory and to live with her as his guardian angel.

He felt a chill. What was she trying to tell him?

Then he flashed back to his brother. Frank and Callie had had it all; adolescent crushes, puppy love, young love, and, finally, a deep and abiding love that went beyond words. He had eventually been able to cope with Iola's death; but he knew he couldn't cope with Vanessa's. Period. And so how could he expect Frank to deal with Callie's death if he couldn't even accept that it had happened? _What am I supposed to do?_

The sound of a ringing doorbell snapped him from his reverie.

Getting up, he went to the door and was half shocked to see Vanessa there—with Nancy.

"Hey," he said softly with a small smile, and took Vanessa in his arms. He held her tightly for a few minutes; he hadn't missed her red eyes, or the slightest of trembling that only he could discern after all of these years.

Then he slowly released her and gave Nancy a quick peck on the cheek. "Nancy," he said. "It's been… quite the last few days." He couldn't say more, feeling emotions threaten to choke him up.

Nancy gave a small smile and nodded sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Joe."

"I know," he replied at last, giving her arm a small squeeze. "Thank you."

"Listen, hon," Vanessa cut in. If Callie was okay, if there was even a chance, then they needed to get started finding her right away. She understood why Nancy didn't want her to say anything; it made sense. At one point, a long time ago, Joe had even believed that Iola was alive, and that false hope, she knew, had almost destroyed him. At the same time, it was Joe—her Joe, and she knew that she needed to tell him. She continued, "I… we…" she paused to acknowledge Nancy, "need to talk to you and Frank. Nancy has some information on Daley that might give closure to the case." She met his eyes imploringly.

Joe sighed and shook his head. "Now's not exactly the best time for Frank, Nan." He looked at Nancy and then turned his attention back to Vanessa. "Come on, babe. You know that. Does it matter anyhow anymore?"

"To Frank it does," Nancy replied.

"What are you…" Joe began, but then stopped suddenly. She was right—she was absolutely right. Hadn't he just been going through files and data, really assessing them, to help his brother? And for what? To distract him from his pain; to help him find some meaning in something so meaningless. THAT he understood.

"Okay," he finally said.

"There's something else," Vanessa interjected. "Callie might be alive!"

Nancy let out a dejected sigh.

"WHAT?!" Joe cried out, shocked.

Trying to control the damage, Nancy cut in. "Joe, PLEASE… don't get your hopes up. Please! It's just a theory. Vanessa wasn't going to say anything…"

At that, Vanessa looked like she was going to spring into action, but again, Nancy's calming demeanor silenced her.

Nancy went on. "But I understand why she would want to tell you, and she's not wrong. It's just that… I don't want to see all of you crushed by false hope, that's all."

Seeing Joe's shocked appearance, Nancy went on to explain her theory on John Daley and Callie. She concluded, "And so, I need to speak to all of you, even your dad, about Daley's past. I need Frank's help with this DNA angle, because quite honestly, all of our evidence against Daley is circumstantial. In fact, it is refuted by DNA. But you know what? We all know that he did it, and it's about time that we got to the bottom of HOW. So can we please all get together… and please, I BEG you, don't even mention the Callie theory to Frank. I just—I don't know—I KNOW him. I just don't think he would, he could, handle it."

Thinking over Nancy's words, Joe nodded slowly. Finally, he said, fierce determination in his eyes, "You're right; he couldn't handle it."

Then he went on, his voice and mannerisms changing so quickly in front of Nancy and Vanessa that they both could only stare in awe. He seemed other-worldly; a different person. His face hardened, his eyes clouded over, and his body stiffened.

"Because I've been down this road before. And it's too late now to get my brother back fully, even IF Callie is okay. I couldn't save Iola; but maybe now I can prevent Frank from totally changing IF, by the grace of God, Callie is alive. But I will not…" his voice quivered, "stand by and watch my brother destroy himself like I did. Even worse than no hope is when you get hope back and then it gets yanked away from you. There are no words…" He paused, his eyes shining with tears. "And I love my brother too much to let that happen to him. I swear to God, I will give my own life before I let my brother be destroyed."

With those words, he turned on his heels and beckoned for the girls to follow him. Several moments passed before either Nancy or Vanessa even thought about following him to his father's office.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx0000000000000000xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx00000000000000000000000xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Twenty minutes later, Joe checked his watch, waiting for his brother to arrive. He'd told him, simply, that they might have a lead and it was important that they all discuss the "case" together. There was no mention of an explosion: no mention of Callie. Frank had simply looked at him, nodded, and went back to the files before him. Joe had absolutely no idea if or when Frank would join the group, which now sat in tense silence, scattered around the room.

He knew that he had scared the girls with his change in demeanor. Well, not scared them, exactly; it was more like he shocked them. He gave himself a mental kick for revealing that dark side he thought he had buried long ago. It had been the combination of events that overwhelmed him at once; Iola's presence surrounded him, images of her death kept flashing before his eyes. Yet nothing, nothing, compared to the need to protect his brother from his inevitable fall. He was desperately scared to lose him and was waiting for the other shoe to drop any moment. He knew he had to be there for Frank; he wanted him to begin to heal… but seeing his infallible brother break, the one who had supported him and been his strength for so long, was a daunting prospect.

Vanessa huddled closer to Joe, and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. He felt a need to be with her at all times now, and treasured the moments that he was able to steal with her when he wasn't trying to help Frank. She was being incredibly patient and understanding through it all, despite her need, he was sure, to have him around to help her through her own pain. The sense of love that he had for her was incredible.

Nancy looked at the people gathered in the Hardy home and hoped desperately that she hadn't made a mistake and overstepped her boundaries. Frank and Joe were her friends, yes, but she was now beginning to question whether her need to solve this case really was for Frank or for her own intrinsic need not to leave things unsettled. She honestly didn't know if she could forgive herself if she caused everyone here unnecessary anxiety in this, their time of grief. Looking at the notes before her, she mentally calculated where to begin.

Fenton was still trying to collect his thoughts. Joe had come into his office and had spilled Nancy's theory to him, and he was shocked. Although he agreed that Daley wouldn't normally be so careless, would he really fake his own death? Could Callie REALLY be alive? He doubted it, and tried to force his mind away from that image. He knew that Frank couldn't get false hope; he'd seen Joe go through a terrible spiral backwards when that had happened to him.

Losing Callie had been like losing a daughter in a very real sense. Although he had grown closer to Vanessa through the years, he genuinely loved Callie, who, in her own quiet way, had become Frank's other half years ago and who was so intensely intermixed with Frank that they almost shared an identity. Having to give the Shaws the news of her death had been quite possibly the hardest thing he'd ever done in his career—in his life—and although he knew that he needed to be the one to be there, the look in their eyes would haunt him forever. Still, Callie's loss in and of itself had been horrendous; the inevitable loss as a result of it of his eldest son would be equally unthinkable.

For the first time in his life, Fenton seriously considered the possibility of leaving a case unsolved, because the cost of solving it might just be too high. It was not a gamble he was willing to take. Just as he was about to say something, Frank walked into the room.

Everyone looked up at once. Frank didn't look awful; he didn't look like he'd broken down. There were no reddened eyes to indicate tears or color so pallid he looked sickly. Instead, he just looked… defeated. Every action he took, from his speech to his mannerisms, seemed a shadow of his real self. He was right on the edge of reality breaking through and adamant denial, but somehow he was walking that line. To Joe, it was a sight to behold, but a sight he never wanted to see again. He was determined not to let this meeting of the minds be the catalyst for Frank's fall either way. He had meant it when he'd said that he would die before he would let that happen.

"Hi," Frank said softly, pulling out a chair. He hinted at a smile, but fell far short of the effort. "I think we need to get this case solved. I KNOW we need to." It was all he could manage. Something deep inside of him would not let him go further.

Nancy gave a small smile in return, and forced herself to choose each word carefully. "Frank, everyone… much about this case is troubling. For over a month, we've hit wall after wall. We think there's been a breakthrough, but still, nothing. There's a lot circumstantially that we do know. And what I'm about to go over with all of you is based on the assumption that John Daley is guilty of the… crimes."

Joe looked steadily at his brother who seemed on edge, hanging on every word. He knew that Frank needed to concentrate on the case to distract himself from reality-- but what if the case was solved? What then?

"Go on," Fenton cut in. Unbeknownst to him, he was thinking the exact same thing as Joe was; but he DID want to know how Daley had done it, and he knew each person in the room was a valuable asset in finding that out. Maybe solving the case would help Frank. He honestly didn't know which path to choose.

"Okay," Nancy began. "Let's quickly recount why we think that Daley is guilty. Joe?" She nodded in his direction, realizing that when they had been on cases together, she had all too often worked simultaneously with Frank, ignoring, unintentionally, Joe's often vital input. She wouldn't make that mistake again. As Joe began to speak, Nancy noted how his eyes never left his brother and she felt a quick pang in her heart.

Joe sat up straighter and spoke, like others, with thoughtfulness. "Well," he began, "there're only two reasons why we think he's NOT guilty. First, his brother confessed. Second, DNA evidence links his brother, not him, to the scene. All else points to his guilt."

"Lay out the facts, son," Fenton encouraged.

Joe nodded. He knew he couldn't slip up and mention Callie in any way. As a person accustomed to speaking first and thinking later, he knew it would be a difficult but necessary task. And he wouldn't mess up.

"Daley was clearly arrogant in his interrogation. It was as if he was playing an intentional game with all of us, taunting us because we had no real evidence against him. But we do. One, he and his brother both knew Leslie Smith. According to Daley, Smith broke up with his brother, who apparently had always had girl problems. I think he said, "had to teach her a lesson."

"Right," Frank said slowly. "But he didn't say WHO had to teach her a lesson."

Fenton held his breath as Frank spoke.

"Two," Joe went on, "Daley had access to security tapes at work and at my apartment. He knew Hughes, and set him up to take the fall. He framed him because he wanted an opportunity to try to terrorize Vanessa and to kill me." Joe squeezed Vanessa's hand reassuringly. "He succeeded in one aspect."

"Three, if I may," Nancy went on, and Joe nodded. "Timms was found on Dee's property, killed by blunt force trauma to the head. Daley probably wanted to get rid of the first witness to frame his brother. Dee is physically too small to have done that. Daley is… was…" she caught herself, "tall. Charlotte confirmed that her rapist was also tall."

"Four," Fenton went on automatically, "At Joe's apartment, Vanessa confirms that Daley had a cough. Mysteriously, it disappeared. Since the girls had initially heard his voice, it would make sense to try to disguise it."

"Five," Frank went on, intent. "Phone records at the jail show that Dee received calls from a payphone in Bayport several times. Those calls must have come from Daley—who else could it have been? Daley was smart enough not to use a cell or home phone."

"Six," Joe went on, "Dee was never a violent criminal, even if he DID confess to the crimes. It's too much of a stretch to think he would make that huge leap."

"Seven," Nancy interrupted, "Along those same lines, Dee drove straight for the cops, so he KNEW he was going to get set up—but why?!"

"Not yet, Nan," Frank spoke up. "Not yet- we don't ask why."

The room was silenced with the force of his words, the ironic truth behind them.

"No," Frank went on. "We still have more to think about. Daley sent packages to Vanessa and Charlotte but set up Tom Jacobs to take the fall by charging the boxes to his credit card. Daley also stole Jacobs' phone and Dee made phony calls to that number, aiding his brother."

Fenton sat up straighter. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "Daley went beyond framing his brother. I think he even said that Dee would not verify his story; that he COULD not verify his story. I never checked out what he meant by that."

Joe was about to mention that Daley also spoke about Iola, which would explain what happened to Callie, but he stopped. That was too close to Frank.

"So…" Nancy began slowly, "What we're left with then is the question of why Dee would lie for his brother, take the fall. And I have a few things I'd like to share with all of you in that regard." She took out her notepad and tried to assess what was important.

"I did a little digging through all of these files, and found out a bit about their relationship; their past. Apparently, they were pretty close growing up," Nancy said. "But they were very different. John was wild and reckless, Jimmy was quiet and thoughtful."

Joe stiffened, not liking the image that he was beginning to see.

"When Dee was young, he got very sick; he had cancer."

Joe's mind began to swim. When Frank was young, he'd been sick, too... very sick… it was something he hadn't thought about in over two decades.

"As a result," Nancy went on, "Dee had to go through radiation and chemotherapy. He lost his hair. And then, he battled recurrences of the disease throughout his youth. As a result, he never had too much of a social life… well, at least he never dated, really. Until he met Leslie Smith… who eventually broke his heart."

Now Joe's own heart was beating quickly in his chest. Like Callie, the one love of his brother's life.

"In the meantime, the Daleys struggled financially. They grew up in a very rough area, as you guys know from Tom Jacobs. Dee had a small record in juvenile detention that wasn't totally expunged." She smiled. "I have my sources for that, as you would. Anyway, it was petty theft, probably to support his family, particularly his brother, who kept getting into trouble. In fact, from what I could get from several interviews I had, in person and on the phone, all Jimmy ever did was look out for his brother, who was constantly in trouble—and I mean BAD trouble. There was never any evidence, but it looks like there were a series of aggravated assaults and two rapes that went unsolved at that time. It's again all circumstantial evidence, but the cases were never solved. And you know—" she stared at the group—"that rapes are among the most under-reported crimes. Where there're two reported, there are probably ten that weren't. Just food for thought."

Joe tried to control his breathing again. Brother watching out for brother, taking the fall….

"Interesting," Fenton cut in, impressed. "Shall I assume that John became pretty reckless and Jimmy fell into more trouble in the courts…. rather than John?"

Nancy nodded.

"My God," Fenton said softly. "That kid protected his brother at the expense of his own life."

Joe heard his own earlier words in the back of his mind_. And I love my brother too much to let that happen to him. I swear to God, I will give my own life before I let my brother be destroyed._

Now Frank sat up, startled, and the group looked at him. His mind was spinning. He held up a hand before they could say anything. There was something… piquing at the corner of his mind… what WAS it in the files that was bothering him?

Joe couldn't say silent while his brother was thinking. "So John becomes a cop, the ultimate career of power where he has access to all types of women, " he began. "But WHY on earth would he set his brother up? And why would Jimmy let himself be set up if he was really a good guy?"

"Maybe they're just close brothers," Vanessa speculated. She smiled softly at Joe and then Frank. "That does happen, you know."

"No, hon," Fenton replied. "My sons are extraordinary. Relationships like theirs don't happen often. But more than that…" He looked deliberately at Joe, knowing what he'd been thinking, "My older boy would not go to jail for his brother, because his brother is a good kid."

Joe managed a small smile.

"Unless I had a reason to!" Frank interjected suddenly, and stood up. "I've got it! I understand!"

"What?" Joe asked at once.

"How—could I not have seen it? Never mind—I didn't see it because I didn't know about the Daleys' past in the depth that Nancy did. First of all, now I remember—Daley's license stated he had blue eyes—we saw him with brown eyes. That means he must be wearing contacts!"

"Yeah, it DID say that," Fenton responded, incredulous. He couldn't believe he had missed that detail.

"And I see it! Jimmy and John Daley—they're not twins—John was telling the truth. God, it makes sense now!"

"Could you clue us in?" Joe asked, swept up in his brother's excitement.

"DNA," Frank began, flushed. "It's never wrong—unless a crime scene is compromised. This one wasn't, so it was seemingly a dead end! Now I know what was bothering me." He began to pace back and forth. "The DNA sample taken from Leslie was based on semen. The records on Jimmy were based on blood. Theoretically, it shouldn't make any difference whatsoever… except that it does. Here."

Frank sat back down and clasped his hands together tightly. Joe stared at him. He knew that Frank was brilliant, and was probably trying to think of how to explain DNA in normal terms. Finally, he spoke.

"None of this made any sense until Nancy said that Jimmy had cancer. Was it leukemia? That's fairly common in young kids." He pushed back his own, distant memories…

"It was, actually," Nancy replied.

"And did John ever give Jimmy any bone marrow? Theoretically, they would be a very good match."

"Yes," Nancy replied. "I remember reading that."

"THAT's why Jimmy would be so loyal to John!" Joe interjected, suddenly realizing what he'd missed all along.

"Yes," Frank responded, "that's true. But it also involves DNA. Let me explain."

By now, everyone in the room was captivated. Frank spoke slowly, and Joe listened carefully, again stunned at how his brother could make sense of this.

"When a person receives a bone marrow transplant, the DNA in that person's blood becomes different from the DNA in his other cells. It's extraordinarily rare, and it can happen in only one other instance, but that person becomes what is known as a chimera."

"A what?" Vanessa asked.

"A chimera," Frank answered, directly. "DNA testing, or DNA typing, can figure out almost anything, from bone marrow or organ transplant to fertility issues. It's based on the fact that every cell in a human body contains identical DNA and that everyone's DNA is different. DNA testing can be done on hair, bone, skin tissue, saliva, semen, blood—there's lots of ways. It's not—wrong. Every person on earth differs from each other in about 0.1 of their DNA. Scientists have identified 13 places in DNA that are different with every individual. Law enforcement personnel often use these areas to produce profiles that distinguish one person from another."

"So? I'm sorry—I'm not quite following," Nancy cut in apologetically. Joe silently had to agree with her, but he knew Frank—that he was building a background for understanding.

"It's okay—it's complicated," Frank went on with a small smile. "I'm a nerd- I like this stuff."

Joe snorted and let out a small laugh despite himself.

"Anyway, I'll continue," Frank replied with a small eye roll at Joe. For the first time since—when?—he felt alive. At the same time, he felt his stomach drop a bit. Deciding to ignore it, he went on. "In almost all cases, a person's DNA is the same in every cell; but that's not always the case. A person can be born with two different sets of DNA; he'd be a chimera. Sometimes, a person develops different DNA later in life; those people are called mosaics. I won't get into that, because it's not the case here. But it is also possible to artificially end up with different DNA in some of our cells. Some ways are temporary, like with blood transfusions, but others, like with bone marrow transplants, are permanent."

"So how does that affect Jimmy?" Fenton asked intrigued.

"Because with a blood marrow transplant, a doctor has to first destroy a person's blood cells or bone marrow. You know that," he said to his dad, voicing the unspoken, then moving on. "That's usually done through chemo or radiation. Then the doctor puts in new marrow from a matched donor—in our case, John. So how does that affect DNA? Because the new bone marrow cells have the donor's DNA, and bone marrow contains blood cells, which are responsible for making our blood. Since our blood cells need to be replaced constantly, what it means in a bone marrow transplant case is that his or her blood cells come from the donor's stem cells... and so he would have the donor's DNA."

"So then…." Nancy cut in.

"So then think about it!" Frank answered. "Semen was collected at the crime scene and the semen DNA matched a blood sample from a known criminal—Jimmy—in the database. He was caught- perhaps deliberately- and put into jail. But it was JOHN who committed the crimes! We could easily prove it if we were able to test both blood and another tissue in both of them to make sure that they share the same DNA profile. Nancy, you did a great job of digging up information on the Daleys' history… medical records are confidential and there's no way you could have accessed them had people decided not to talk."

"I guess I got lucky," Nancy admitted, stunned at Frank's information.

"But if they were that close," Joe went on, "Why would John let Jimmy get life in jail? It's not a case where it's a few days in the youth detention system."

Fenton gasped. "That's what I forgot to check into! Hold on a minute. I have a quick phone call to make." He got up and disappeared from the room.

Less than ten minutes later, he returned, his face registering the shock he was feeling. "I have your answer," he said. With a deep sigh, he went on. "I didn't even think about it until Joe said LIFE in prison. I totally forgot that I was going to check into Jimmy's health records; he looked sick. Kids," he went on, "Jimmy s cancer has returned. He has only weeks to live. He might be totally against his brother's crimes—but he is indebted to his brother for saving his life. I can't imagine that anyone would want to see his true love be destroyed or that that could be forgiven."

Frank sucked in his breath. What? What had his dad just said?

Fenton, oblivious, continued. "John raped Leslie Smith as revenge for the way she treated Jimmy. If Jimmy had any morals at all, he would have spoken up and said something—but he's always been in his brother's shadow and he literally owes him his life. He's lost everything that matters to him; he doesn't care if he lives or dies."

Frank felt dizzy. He gripped the chair tightly.

"Now we just have to see if he's alive," Vanessa cut in. "There should be some evidence either way after the explos…" Vanessa snapped her mouth shut as she realized what she'd been about to say.

Frank got up at once. He was going to be sick. Pushing his way out of the room, he started shaking uncontrollably. He felt both hot and cold, fire and ice, race through his veins. He fell to his knees on the porch outside.

Vaguely aware of Joe's presence next to him, he couldn't tell what was real and what was not. He couldn't talk. He couldn't breathe.

He did not hear the phone ringing in the distance.

All he knew was that he was falling, falling… and the only reason he was still even vaguely aware of his surroundings was because he felt Joe's arms around him from behind, and he heard the repeated "It's okay. I'm here," again and again.

When Fenton emerged from the house five minutes later, he was struck by the scene in front of him. Joe was holding onto Frank tightly, who looked almost completely unaware of what was happening. As he heard Joe's words to his brother, Fenton couldn't help but to question whether Joe's words were a promise or a prayer.

He stood in front of his boys, tears streaming down his face. "Let's go," he managed. "We need to get to Bayport General Hospital as fast as we can."

Joe looked up.

"Callie's okay. I guess she had a guardian angel after all…"

_Information about chimeras researched and paraphrased in part from /genetics/ask.php?id208"_


	28. Chapter 28

For the last chapter reviews: 

_Dreams of Leilani, bhar, angry penguin, violetsunshine, Helen, cjloverforever, Ms. Risha, and Missme113-- Thanks so much for taking the time to review and for your lovely feedback!_

_Josie- Hi-- when you get here! LOL._

_nancyfan- thanks for your review-- and I am so excited to read your next chapter!!_

_franknjoe- As always, thanks for your comments! There was no "evidence" as of yet that Callie/ Daley were alive simply because of the time frame. The first day was the explosion and then Joe going to the hospital to be with Frank, and the second day was when the whole scene with Frank's explanation of the case unfolded. The kind of evidence that would show remains would take quite some time. However, thank you for asking and for your interest! I always look forward to reading what you have to say! :)_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 28

As their speeding car finally reached the hospital and they pulled into a parking spot, Fenton glanced sidelong at his eldest son. Still, he didn't know what to make of him. Frank hadn't said a word to anyone on the trip. He had just sat quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was still trembling.

When the car pulled to a stop, Fenton immediately put a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"You two go ahead," he said, motioning for Vanessa and Joe to go into the hospital.

Joe stared at his father, dumbfounded. If it was Vanessa in the hospital, and he'd just been told she was okay after thinking she was dead, neither hell nor high water could keep him from running to her side immediately. But then he glanced at Frank, who was still sitting frozen in the front seat, and he realized that maybe his dad was right; maybe it was better if Fenton could get through to Frank before he went to see Callie.

Finally nodding his head slowly in understanding, he took Vanessa's hand, and they made their way into the building.

When Joe and Vanessa were out of sight, Fenton turned to Frank, who had just started to open the door, as if he just realized where they were and what was happening.

"Dad, I need to go," Frank pleaded, eyes wide.

"No," Fenton said. "I need to talk to you first."

Frank froze. He still hadn't fully grasped everything that had occurred, but he knew one thing, and it pressed on him almost more than he could bear. _Get to Callie. I have to get to Callie._

As if he could read his mind, Fenton spoke. "In a minute, son. She'll be there. She's okay."

"I…" Frank managed, but Fenton reached over and rubbed Frank's arm, silencing him.

"Did you hear me, Frank? She's OKAY."

Frank could only stare. The weight of his father's words slowly descended on him and he let out a slow, shaky breath. He felt his bottom lip begin to quiver, and immediately turned away and looked out the front windshield of the car. He couldn't stop shaking; finally, he raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing it.

Fenton's heart went out to his son. For once, he was at a loss for words. He wanted to reach out to him and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted to take away the shock Frank was in and replace it once again with a sense of security that, even now, he feared was gone.

At last, all he could manage to get out was, "Frank, I just wish… that you didn't keep everything locked up inside of you. It's not… good. I'm just so worried…"

Finally, Frank turned to him. Fenton was shocked into silence. It seemed that, for the first real time he could remember, he was looking at a person who was much older than he knew. His little boy wasn't there anymore; instead, he was looking into a face that was a younger version of his own. He was looking at a man, not a boy. At the same time, he knew at once that it was Frank's eyes that were different. They seemed wiser, more worldly somehow.

But they were also here, in the present. In whatever form he had him, Frank was back.

Deliberately, seeming to think hard about what he was saying, Frank reached over and patted his father's hand. "Dad," he said softly, "I'm okay. Really, I am. I need to go see Callie, but I think I need to tell you something, too."

"Go on," Fenton encouraged, shocked at the change in his son.

Frank managed the smallest of smiles. "Dad, you have to stop worrying about me so much, okay? I… I handle things differently than you, and certainly differently than Joe. But I DO handle them." He paused, searching for the right words. "I can't help who I am, any more than Joe can. He will always be impulsive and fun; I'll always be more reserved. It's just the way I am."

Fenton listened attentively. He couldn't remember the last time he had talked—really TALKED—with Frank. Seizing the opportunity, he nodded but expressed his concern. "Oh, Frank," he sighed. "You just hold everything inside and I…"

"No, I don't," Frank cut him off. "Listen, Dad," Frank went on softly but firmly. "I don't think you give me enough credit sometimes. Am I quiet at times? Yes. Do I think before I speak? Yes. But I KNOW that I have great parents and terrific friends. I talk to you all. And even more, I have Joe. And Callie." He fought back the lump in his throat. "I guess that everyone just knows a different side of me. And that's not so unusual, really."

Fenton, captivated, could only interject, "But your reaction all this time… you didn't grieve…."

"No," Frank shook his head slowly and raised a hand to his chest, covering his heart. "Dad, I… I just can't… cry right now…it goes beyond tears." Despite his words, he felt his eyes brim with tears that he promptly fought back. Still, he'd gone this far; he might as well finish. "I don't know what I would do without Callie. She's my…" He searched for words, and, finding none, simply concluded, "heart. She's my life, Dad."

Fenton felt his own eyes well with tears. Frank, usually so reserved and private, had expressed himself with such candor and raw emotion it was almost hard to hear.

"And so," Frank added, "I can't think of my life without her—literally. And thank God I don't have to." He gave the smallest of smiles again. "So I'm me, dad. And you won't see me break apart. Working things out on my own is just as much a part of me as watching out for Joe or Callie; it's literally second nature. But I'll try to express myself a little better from now on, okay?"

Fenton could only nod. Frank had changed; he saw it and wondered where it would lead.

Putting a still slightly trembling hand on the door handle, Frank opened the door. "Now I need to go see my fiancée." As he was about to go, it seemed to Fenton that something literally stopped Frank and he turned around. Unexpectedly, and totally out of character, Frank reached over and hugged his father. "I love you, Dad. Thanks." He turned around and sprinted towards the hospital entrance.

Stunned, Fenton could only watch his eldest son leave him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just watched Frank grow up in front of his eyes and he wondered if, maybe, he'd ever really known him at all.

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As Vanessa ran ahead to find out which room Callie was located in, Joe stayed behind momentarily as he caught sight of Chief Collig, who was in the lobby sipping a cup of coffee. When he saw Joe, he motioned for him to come over.

"We got good news today," he said simply to Joe. As he spoke, Joe noted at once that he looked relieved, like a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Then it made sense to him. Collig had let Daley go; the amount of guilt he must have felt for that decision must have been enormous.

Instinctively, Joe reached over and extended his hand. "Thanks for everything, Chief," he said sincerely. As Collig reached out to shake his hand, Joe couldn't help but to smile. He'd known Chief Collig since he'd been a kid through his father's friendship with him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that this man, who was gruff and no nonsense was simply that—a man. Joe had a feeling that there was a lot more to Collig than met the eye, and somehow his dad was privy to some of that. He was, at heart, a good person; just someone who'd become slightly embittered at the world after everything he'd seen.

_Like me, _Joe realized with a start. _Maybe that's why he gives me such a hard time._

Collig interrupted his thoughts. "Where's Frank, son? Where's your dad?"

"Outside. Dad, uh, needed to talk to Frank for a few minutes," he answered.

Collig nodded. "How's he doing? Your brother, I mean," he went on.

"Better now," Joe responded. "Thank God." He paused for a moment and then continued. "Chief, is that why you're here? Did you get the call? What happened?"

"You know, Joe, it's incredible," Collig answered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's truly a miracle that Callie is okay. She was found several miles outside of Bayport. The road she was found on was a stretch of highway that had actually been closed for repairs. It would be very difficult for any traffic to get through. She was found at the bottom of a steep embankment--" Collig stopped as he saw Joe wince.

"I'm sorry," Collig went on. "I'll stop."

"No," Joe responded, shaking off the images that Collig was conjuring. "It's okay. I'm just grateful that she survived." He paused a moment before continuing. "So how did you find her?"

"Anonymous phone call. It came into the station. The caller—a woman—simply said that there'd been an accident and that Callie Shaw had been found, alive but hurt. She told us exactly where to look. In fact, she said she would mark the spot with a mauve sweatshirt by the side of the road on a marker next to the embankment." Collig shrugged. "Amazing, but miraculous."

Joe shook his head in disbelief. "Did she leave any information? A name? Contact number?" Even now, he was preparing to eventually get in touch with the woman to thank her.

"Nothing," Collig answered. "In fact, when we arrived, there was no car. It was almost like she vanished. And of course, she was only on the phone with the station a minute or two, certainly not long enough to trace the call."

Joe sighed. "At least Callie's okay—that's the most important thing, right?" he responded.

"That it is," Collig answered with a small smile. "And I think your girlfriend is waiting over there by the elevator to go see her—now." He pointed in Vanessa's direction. "Go ahead. I'll wait for your dad."

Joe turned to go, but was stopped by the sound of Collig's voice calling him back.

"One more thing," Collig went on, meeting Joe's eyes directly. "If Callie is okay, that means she had to somehow get away from the explosion. That also means someone took her and attempted to kill her. I'm telling you, son, had it not been for that phone call, Callie Shaw would be dead—period. Daley's alive, Joe. So keep a real close eye on that girlfriend of yours. In fact, I think I may just put someone on the force—one of my old timers—" he added quickly, "to shadow her. But the more eyes out, the better, right?" His tone indicated it was statement, not a question.

Fighting back the image that Collig had just created, Joe nodded slowly. Then, hurriedly, he ran to Vanessa, determined not to let her out of his sight.

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Once upstairs, Joe and Vanessa immediately caught sight of Callie's parents. Vanessa ran up to Mrs. Shaw and embraced her tightly. Together, they headed for a corner of the room where they could speak quietly. Joe approached Mr. Shaw, who looked troubled and clearly surprised to see the wrong Hardy brother there.

In answer to the unasked question, Joe quickly shook hands with Mr. Shaw and said, "Frank's downstairs. He's on his way. How's Callie?"

Mr. Shaw let out a shaky breath. He had no idea how he was about to articulate what he had to say. The grief of losing his only child had been unbearable; the shock of her return had been unbelievable. He was caught between planning a funeral and planning a celebration. It was surreal. At the same time, he couldn't believe what he had to say.

"She'll… she'll be all right," he came out with, voice strained. "She has lots of cuts and bruises, two broken ribs… but a very serious concussion. She's just now beginning to come to."

"Is she in much pain?" Joe asked, concerned.

"She's under heavy sedation. The doctors said that what she says for the next few days might not make much sense. They're actually surprised that she's actually regaining consciousness this quickly." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm so sorry," Joe replied. "But it's good that she's awake now, right? Frank is…" Joe shook off the chill that came over him.

"No, Joe," Mr. Shaw cut him off. He met Joe's eyes, the confusion apparent. "That would make sense, I know. She saw us, but could barely speak. And then I swore that I saw her silently mouth Frank's name. But when I finally could get close enough to understand what she wanted… well, Joe…" He raised his hands in confusion, "She said that she needed to see you."

"Me?" Joe asked, stunned. "Are you sure?"

"Go to her, Joe. Please. Try to figure out what happened to her. I'll stay with Frank as soon as he arrives and hold him off while I can."

At a loss for words, Joe simply nodded and made his way towards Callie's room.

When he went inside, Joe sucked in a deep breath. Callie was on a hospital bed, face as ashen as the sheets that surrounded her. She had a large bandage on the side of her head, and already her bruises were beginning to show, an ugly rainbow of blacks and browns and blues. He hands were clasped on the sheet in front of her, and he was struck for a moment of how, with the pale colors and utter quietness of the room, it looked like she was in a coffin, just for a moment. It was one moment too long, as he felt a tear form at the corner of his eye that he quickly wiped away.

Making his way to her, he sat down in the chair next to her bed and took her hand, feeling somehow that Frank should be there.

Weakly, slowly, Callie struggled to open her eyes. They fluttered open and shut several times before she was finally able to open them completely. "Frank?" she whispered.

He knew it! Mr. Shaw had been wrong. Of course Callie wanted to see Frank; not him. He squeezed her hand. "Hey Cal," he said quietly to her. "It's Joe. Frank's coming. He'll be here any moment. Hang on, okay?"

"Joe?" Callie asked weakly, finally managing to focus her eyes.

Looking at her, Joe noted the faraway gaze in her eyes. Her speech was slightly slurred. "Yeah, it's me. I'm... I'm glad to see you." Somehow, he couldn't find the right words.

"No, Joe…" she responded softly, both looking at him and not looking at him at the same time. "Need to see YOU," she hesitantly began.

"Uh, okay," he said, giving her hand a quick squeeze. "Go ahead. Anything you need; just let me know."

"Saw her Joe. She saved me," Callie murmured.

"What?" Joe asked, leaning closer. "Saw who? Who saved you?"

Callie smiled a dreamy smile. "You know who."

At a complete loss, Joe shook his head. "No, Cal. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I talked to her. She's good. Says she loves you forever." Callie's speech was slurred.

"What are you saying, Callie? I don't understand." Joe was worried. He heard Mr. Shaw's words ring in the back of his head. _What she's saying might not make any sense. Severe concussion. _He tried to find the center of her words and to extract the nonsense, but she couldn't make heads or tails of what she meant.

"Iola," Callie replied, eyes heavy.

Joe froze. Then, coming to his senses, he gently squeezed her hand. "No, Callie. No. Iola's gone. Vanessa's here. She's waiting to see you and…"

"Iola!" Callie replied more adamantly. She felt tears slip onto her cheeks. Her stomach hurt. She didn't quite know exactly what had happened, and the words were so hard to form. She HAD to make him understand. God, she wanted Frank. She _needed_ him. But she had to do this first. Even in her pain and confusion, she knew somehow that she had to deliver this message that even she didn't understand.

"It's okay, Cal," Joe responded, eyes reflecting deep concern and sympathy. He brushed away a tear from her eyes. Callie, like his brother, rarely cried. Something was wrong. "I'm listening," he said seriously to her. And he was.

Callie looked slightly more lucid, but he could tell that she was struggling for how to express herself. She took a deep breath and sputtered out what she could remember in fragments. "Said her name was Erin. Wanted to give me cola and… and apple. 'Member, Joe?" God, the words came so hard. "At the grave. When she died. We... gave her apple, and cola, right? She knew things. Said help on the way. Said that love is forever.' Callie's head started to pound. "She said it wasn't my time. She looked like an angel." Callie closed her eyes. "Frank, Joe. I…"

"I'll get him," Joe whispered, his voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he left the room, he ran down the hallway, past the Shaws, Vanessa, Fenton, and even Frank. He needed to get outside. When he did, he found the closest bench and sat down. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt the tears flow. But, he realized at once, they were tears of joy.

Because he knew what Callie had said was true, even if she never spoke the words again. The sweatshirt that Collig had described had been the exact same color as the one Iola had worn on the day she died. The caller knew Callie's name, and Callie had never given it, since Callie was just gaining consciousness now. Callie had been right; when they had met this year to remember Iola, he'd started his story talking about an apple, and had toasted her with a Coke. Above all, though, there was one thing he could not refute.

Very few people knew this, but Erin was Iola's middle name.

And she had forgiven him, and loved him still.

"Thank you, baby," he whispered into the wind and he could swear that he felt the slightest touch of a kiss on his skin as he looked into the bright summer sun….


	29. Chapter 29

_As always, thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. In particular, I'd like to thank Missy, Josie (my pal on HDA-LOL!), Dr. Drew, Angry Penguin, Helen, Dreams of Leilani, FranknJoe, bookworm2009, Rini, Aurora, and Missme113 for your kind words on the last chapter. I apologize if I missed anyone! I'd also like to thank all of the people who might not be reviewing, but who are reading the story-- it made me smile to see I've been added to a few alerts and story faves! :) Only three more chapters to go after this one-- I hope you enjoy them all! _

_P.S.- This is a day early, as I will not be around tomorrow to post. Have a great day!_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 29

As Frank listened to Mr. Shaw describing what had happened to Callie, he felt himself struggling to maintain his composure. She'd been through hell—and for what? Why? _Because I didn't solve the case faster. Because it wasn't CALLIE who had been targeted prior to this. _He fought back the self-loathing.

More than even those thoughts, though, he couldn't get his mind off what Callie had gone through. For as long as he and Callie had been together, it had always been second nature for him to protect her, physically, emotionally… in any way he could. She had always had such a beautiful and vibrant spirit characterized by undaunted optimism that things would work out for the best. It was, he was well aware, the very same thing that Joe thought about HIM. But he wasn't the innocent spirit his brother always believed him to be; he'd just tried really hard throughout their lives to present that image to his brother; and in a very real sense, it had worked.

But Joe was a thought for later. Right now, he knew that he was still trembling, and he was beginning to feel a sense of rage that he had never known before. Someone had touched Callie; HURT her. THAT was unforgivable. He wished he could say that he was filled with a blind rage, an uncontrolled fury to get revenge upon Daley. But he wasn't—it was far worse than that, and it honestly scared him. He WOULD get revenge on Daley… and he was perfectly rational and totally in control of that thought. He owned it. _No_, he thought bitterly. _It owns me_. And that day of reckoning would come soon enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother run from Callie's room, and immediately his heart stopped beating in his chest. In the background, he thought he saw Vanessa begin to go after Joe, thought he heard his dad or Mr. Shaw calling for him. But he didn't care—he needed to get to her now, to make sure she was all right.

As soon as he entered the room, he froze as he caught sight of Callie. He literally felt the wind knocked out of him. He'd thought she was gone; had just begun to see that she might have been senselessly taken from him. But here she was. Reality was unbearably fickle, and he couldn't quite register the shock.

Silently, wordlessly, he made his way to her bedside. He stared down at her, physically aching to hold her. He would NOT let her be hurt again, ever… he didn't even know if he could ever let her go. He couldn't touch her-- not yet. Mentally, he willed the tears to come. They wouldn't; it was still too raw. If he started to cry, how could he stop? Still, he longed for some relief from his pain.

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. What could he say? What words could express what only his heart really knew? "I love you," sounded weak and childish. "I would die without you," sounded overdramatic and sentimental. "You're my world… my heart… my soul mate…" They all sounded like bad Hallmark cards.

But, God help him, they were all true.

Then, as he gazed down at her, he saw her struggle to open her eyes. Already, he could sense her pain, could see that she was struggling to know what was going on around her. But then, the strangest thing happened. She opened her eyes, focused on Frank, and a sense of peace came over her face, softening her features. She gave the smallest of smiles when she saw him.

Sitting on the bed beside her, he could no longer hold back. Wrapping his arms around her, cognizant that he could not hurt her, he held her to him. Feeling her in his arms, a sense of tremendous calm came over him, a relief greater than anything he had ever known. He had been so far way from her, and now—he was home.

And it was not until he felt Callie reach up and gently stroke his cheek that he realized that he had been crying all along…

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John Daley sat in his car outside the hospital, clenching his fists in tension. He still had access to the police radios; he'd made sure of that when he had staged his latest getaway, what was supposed to be his FINAL getaway. But things hadn't gone according to plan-- no, not exactly. He'd been distracted by the Shaw girl, and it had caused him to hit the remote start only an instant too soon. He'd been far enough away to avoid the full extent of the blast, and she had only been hurt, not killed.

Instead, he'd had to grab her, too, to make the perfect getaway to his car hidden in the distance. He smiled briefly as he remembered the "interrogation." Watching Collig squirm, watching Hardy and his sons try to bluff their way through the "evidence"—it had been comical. They had nothing on him, but they KNEW—it was the perfect crime.

Had it not been for the fact that Callie Shaw was alive, there would be no question of whether he was alive, either.

But she had ruined it. And she would pay.

Even now it boggled his mind how she had been found. He'd been a COP. He knew where to dump her, knew that no one would have come down that road. The thought of her suffering, waking up in pain, abandoned and lost, had been exciting. There was no way she would have lasted more than a day. He'd even toyed with the idea of returning the next day, REALLY teaching her a lesson, having his way with her. She would have been screaming even louder, the pain from her injuries, in the past and as they happened, mixing in with his pleasure. The thought even now held a lure for him. _The bitch._

But now, it was ruined. He could get away; he knew that. All the arrangements had been made ahead of time. But if there was one thing he hated it was unfinished business. He knew it was a risk, but he had to finish what he had started. It was more than a risk, really—but he had a compulsion, a lust for revenge that could only be satisfied when the task at hand was completed. It was a factor that had been a part of him since as far back as he could remember; since Jimmy had gotten sick. He shook off the thought, but it plagued him still.

As kids, he and his brother had only had each other. When Jimmy had been diagnosed with leukemia everything had changed. Although he'd given bone marrow several times to his brother, and the prognosis had improved for Jimmy's longterm survival, he had lost all sense of innocence at that time and his childhood had been shattered forever. Always, always it was the women who had ruined everything for them. His mother had abandoned them; he'd been raised by a drug addict aunt who'd let her various boyfriends pummel everyone and everything, including him and Jimmy. One boyfriend in particular had beaten his aunt so severely she'd almost died; but his lawyer, a hot chick who probably couldn't waste her time on these "low level" crimes, had gotten him off. His own first girlfriend at the age of 13 had played him. It wasn't until years later that he found out she'd been eighteen, and had simply used him for experimentation.

And at that time, he learned that the only thing that he could do to make himself feel better was to get revenge upon these holier than thou women who thought they were God's gift and heaven, itself. Well, he could do better than that; he could provide hell.

He'd spent his teen years wild and reckless and doing whatever he wanted to whomever he wanted. And Jimmy always covered for him, even going to the detention center in his place. John knew he'd always been smart; he could see things most people couldn't, and it hadn't been long before he'd made the connection to the very unusual bond that he'd shared with his brother.

But a long time ago he'd separated from his brother. To make a connection, to feel a bond so strong with someone you knew would die, the only person who really looked out for you, would be unbearable. So he'd kept a relationship with Jimmy, but had never let himself FEEL again.

Still, Jimmy covered for him, having a literal sense that he owed his brother his life. Jimmy had always been a good kid; John knew he was appalled by what he suspected John of doing, but never had the heart to verify his suspicions. And when he'd gone after Leslie Smith... well, he'd done that for Jimmy who, once he had found out, simply turned away, defeat in his eyes. To this day, John didn't really understand it. After all, he'd taught her a lesson, made her pay the ultimate price for what she did to his brother.

And so, he cared for his brother, but never understood how he thought; why Jimmy wasn't bitter and outraged; why he never wanted to get back what had been taken from him. Jimmy was naïve; and now, as his death approached, John could only hope that he found the peace he deserved. As for himself, he didn't believe much in a God and he pretty much knew that hell existed on earth. But he could mix the two; give others hell and feel a divine sense of power and fulfillment from his desires.

And that thought brought him back to the present. Death was too good for Callie Shaw; he would make her live in unbearable horror for as long as he needed to. Then he had some unfinished business with Vanessa Bender, the tall, leggy blonde. THAT would be fun. And finally, there'd been that hot -to -trot redhead who thought she could pretend that her brains were more important than her looks. He had a plane to catch in four days time; and three days and three girls to lead him into his glorious escape.

He was just about to leave his care when he saw her; Vanessa Bender. Daley paused. Callie Shaw had been first on his agenda, but there was the other one—alone. He saw a golden opportunity. At once, he felt himself begin to change as he became the hunter after his prey. And he was hungry…

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Vanessa stopped by the entrance to the side door of the hospital. It had been only a short time since she'd arrived there and it was turning out to be a much different trip than she had anticipated. When Nancy had first approached her with her theory that Callie might be alive, she allowed herself to hope. As they gave Joe the news, she began to BELIEVE. Callie couldn't be taken away from her—from all of them. Life simply couldn't be that cruel.

Now, when she'd heard the news that Callie was okay and in the hospital, Vanessa couldn't wait to see her. She knew that she'd be second only to the Shaws and Frank to see her best friend, but even that hadn't turned out the way she thought that it would. It was Joe who was sitting by Callie's bedside, apparently at her request… and Frank who was sitting in the waiting room, the shock still imprinted on his face.

Then, just when she thought that Joe would be coming out, he did-- running away like he'd just been given a terrible shock. She was stunned; they all were. It seemed like instantaneously Frank stood up and ran into Callie's room; Mr. Hardy and the Shaws exchanged confused looks; she was left speechless. But just as she knew almost at once that Callie really was okay, she knew that she needed to get to Joe as quickly as possible just to… be there for him.

It wasn't hard to follow Joe—he'd headed straight out of the hospital and sat down on a bench. Vanessa stood in the background by the door. Something about her boyfriend's posture was so serene and struck her as so poignant she couldn't progress. Was he talking to someone? Looking for someone? Praying? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that he seemed to need some time by himself.

Vanessa was, in fact, so wrapped up in her thoughts about Joe that she almost didn't notice the person who had surreptitiously crept beside her. Almost…

When she whirled around to face her unknown adversary, all she saw was a gun. His face was masked by a low slung baseball cap.

"Scream and I'll kill you. Right here. Now."

She KNEW. At once, Vanessa felt her blood turn to ice, felt her knees begin to collapse. That voice-- that voice.

She wanted to scream, because she knew that if she went with him, she'd die anyway. Here, at least she had a chance. But she couldn't. Her voice caught in her throat and she felt herself begin to shake uncontrollably as he pressed the revolver deeper into her side.

Still, she went to open her mouth when she heard him, felt him press against her forcefully enough to scare her and subtly enough so that any passers by wouldn't notice anything at all. Then she heard his words.

"I've got a gun on you now, and your boyfriend under surveillance out there. You scream, he dies, too." His breath was hot upon her cheek and his grasp firm and painful on her arm.

_He's bluffing. He HAS to be. But what if he isn't? Would Joe die? Oh, God._

She couldn't risk it.

As they made their way calmly further and further from the hospital entrance, Vanessa had the strangest feeling that she was watching her own death. She transcended her body knowing what was to come.

It came far sooner than she had expected. The forceful push to the ground snapped her back to reality. She was thrown to the floor, felt his hands gripping hers forcefully above her head. He was on top of her and she couldn't breathe.

"Look at me," he hissed.

Shaking violently, Vanessa had no choice. She was struck in this moment of intense violence by two facts: he had brown eyes now, and his eyes were far away, not in this moment, really, either. They were totally devoid of feeling, the very definition of apathy. It was the most frightening thing she'd ever seen.

Keeping one arm pinned above her head and using the other to turn her face to his, he made her watch him… smile.

"It's the last thing that you'll ever see."

And it would have been…

Had not the door slammed open,

... And Frank Hardy stepped inside.


	30. Chapter 30

_As always, thank you so much for your reviews. I WILL thank each of you personally when I post the last chapter (only two more to go-- I can hardly believe it!). You all have made the experience of posting the story so enjoyable for me as I eagerly look forward to reading what you all think! :)_

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 30

It was strange. As Frank lay beside Callie, holding her to him, he had opened his eyes for only an instant. Prior to that, he had allowed himself to bask in the relief, the absolute uncorrupted love he had for this woman in his arms, closing his eyes—creating a world in which only he and Callie existed. But then, it had been too powerful to ignore… this feeling in his gut that he needed to LOOK at something.

Callie was asleep, nestled against him. He was so comfortable… but he HAD to look. As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw it. Out of the window of the hospital room, far in the distance, he saw Vanessa being led away. No one else would have noticed, but Vanessa's long, ash- blonde hair was unmistakable… as was the stiffness of her body and the proximity of the man close to her; a man, he saw right away, who was NOT Joe.

At once, he sat up, feeling Callie wince at the sudden movement. Gently, he slid away from her, already his body feeling the physical loss of having her near him. But Vanessa was in trouble, and he had to help.

Daley—it HAD to be. He felt his body stiffen. Eyes never leaving Vanessa and concentrating on the details of the area into which she was heading, he took out his cell phone. _Damnit—no reception._

He had no choice. Running out of the room, he looked frantically around. Where was his dad? Collig? The Shaws? SOMEONE?! How long had he been with Callie?! There was no nurse; the station was empty. He had to go.

But he couldn't leave Callie. What if—what if this was a ploy? What if that someone whom he'd seen had been wearing a disguise, made to look like Vanessa? It was a great distance away. What if Daley was here, trying to get to Callie? He could never let that happen. Still, he couldn't let Vanessa be endangered.

At once, a calm descended upon him. Logic fought against the emotion seething inside. This was a HOSPITAL. Everyone had to be close by—somewhere. Collig would have police protection on Callie; Frank just KNEW it. And he could use his cell on the way. It was coming; Judgment Day was at hand.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, Frank mentally plotted his route. And then, he started to run, faster than he had in years, in the general direction where he'd seen Vanessa being taken.

It took less than fifteen minutes before he was outside and almost at the side building a distance from the hospital, which wasn't in the best section of town. He saw immediately where Daley had been headed, and tried to fight back knowledge of the terror that Vanessa must be feeling. He grabbed his cell phone and hit 911. His phone had a GPS locater inside it; he knew he'd eventually be found. But he had no time to talk. He had arrived.

Frank threw open the door and entered at once. The scene before him caused his heart momentarily to skip a beat. Vanessa was on the floor, being forcefully held down. John Daley was on top of her, struggling with his clothing. The sounds of Vanessa's muffled sobs and the thrashing of her body against the floor, as well as Daley's own grunts and curses, hung in the air.

It took Frank only an instant to recognize that Daley had not yet completed his intended task. Vanessa was still fully clothed and Daley was still struggling to get her to submit.

Upon Frank's entrance, Daley looked up, startled.

"Get the hell off her!" Frank screamed out, his voice taking on a tone even he didn't recognize. At once, he rushed into the room and, using all the strength he had, he grabbed Daley by the shirt and flung him off Vanessa.

"Get out of here!" he shouted to Vanessa as he struggled to keep Daley down.

Sobbing, Vanessa unsteadily managed to get to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Trying to close her shirt around her, she knew that she had to tell him—warn him now.

"He… he's got a gun…" she managed between sobs, trying to stand unsuccessfully as she gasped for air.

"Get out!" Frank shouted again, gesticulating with one free hand as he struggled with Daley. "Go!"

Vanessa, using all of her strength, crawled on her knees out of the room, tears blurring her vision. Had Frank not heard her? Did he not care? _"Oh, God,"_ she whimpered out loud once she had made it out of the room.

She took a moment to look around. Where was she? The sky was spinning. She needed to help Frank—but she couldn't go back. _Get yourself together_, she scolded herself. She was scared; it had never been this hard to breathe before.

Then, she saw it. In the far distance, she recognized the entrance to the hospital. It was so, so far away. She'd never make it in time. The sounds from inside the room were chilling; shouting, scraping metal… at once, a shot rang out. _Oh my God. Oh my God. _ She looked frantically around. "Frank," she whispered to the air; but no one saw; no one heard.

Then, struggling harder than she had in her entire life, Vanessa stood up, quickly adjusted her torn clothing, and, on wobbly legs, tears streaming down her face, she started to run….

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Inside, Frank struggled with Daley who had managed to take advantage of Frank's one moment to warn Vanessa to leave to grab him from behind. Daley was strong; the years of street-fighting and training as a cop had evidently paid off.

Whirling around, Frank managed to get the upper hand again. What was happening?! Although he'd tangled with hundreds of criminals over the years, this one was different. This one was personal. He had no control over what was happening. For once in his life, his years of martial arts training left him; all that was left was a savage, primal need to hurt this piece of scum; to tear him to pieces.

At once, the force of their struggle caused them to break apart momentarily. Their eyes met for an instant, both full of fire and desperation. This was it; one way or another—and they both knew it.

Daley reached behind him, and Frank recalled Vanessa's words immediately. "Gun…." he whispered.

Frank pushed forward anyway, knocking Daley back again. Somehow, Daley had managed to free his gun and had fired an errant shot into the air. The sound of it was deafening in the otherwise silent building. Both momentarily caught off guard by the sound, Frank recovered just an instant before Daley and managed to knock the gun to the floor.

The race began as to who could get it first. Crawling desperately, Frank just managed to get his hands on the revolver when another gunshot went off just by his hand. _He's got another gun_, Frank realized at once.

He whirled around from the floor and stood at once, gun pointed at Daley; and found himself looking right into the barrel of another gun.

They stood, staring at each other, breathing heavily, guns pointed at each other.

And then… Daley smiled.

Frank felt a hardness come into his heart that was so foreign, so unlike anything he had ever felt before, it actually chilled him. Ice ran through his veins. He HATED this man; he couldn't recall ever having hated anyone—anything—before this moment.

"This is it," Daley said, trying to regain his breath.

"This is it," Frank mirrored, totally devoid of any emotion except unadulterated hatred. He didn't know himself anymore. He couldn't think, could not outwit this guy. He didn't want to think, either. It took all the self-control he had not to pull the trigger.

"I was good, wasn't I?" Daley asked. "Had you fooled the whole time."

"You don't deserve any credit for anything," Frank replied icily.

Neither one moved.

"And when this is over, I'll still be a mystery—you'll never know how I did it, will you?" He taunted Frank with a smirk.

"I know your secret," Frank answered evenly.

For just a moment, the look on Daley's face, his calm facade, faltered.

Frank seized the moment. "You sold out your brother. He's going to die and you made him live his last months in jail. How do you do that? Jimmy spent his life protecting you, and you turn on him? I'd protect my brother at all costs."

He saw Daley's weakness. BUT—Daley saw his, too.

Eyes flashing, Daley retorted. "Maybe you would," he answered calmly. "But you couldn't protect your brother against that mind game I created with the explosion, huh? What a way to go—remind him of his dead girlfriend, and mess with your head, too. But you couldn't protect that little girlfriend of yours, could you?" He licked his lips and smiled. "Damn. It was fun to watch her calling out in pain. You should have heard her scream. It's too bad I didn't get to totally have her, though. I bet she's good in bed."

"Shut the hell up," Frank interjected, fury racing through his body.

"Mmmmm," Daley added. "She's a fine piece of--"

Frank raised the gun directly at Daley's head, causing him to stop. In the distance, they both heard sirens.

They glared at each other.

"You couldn't do it, Hardy; drop the gun. You weren't man enough to save those other bitches, including your own. Tell your brother that his girl will always remember me—so I've won. And how is your little Callie? To think, the last image that she'll have of you is how you wanted that hot little redhead, Drew. I made sure to tell her what was going on before our little disappearance together. Poor thing; it brought tears to her eyes."

The siren was getting closer.

"Go to hell," Frank replied coldly.

He pulled the trigger.

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Joe ran into the building, somehow knowing that the police were not far behind. Vanessa had come to him, sobbing, telling him what had transpired while he had been sitting on a bench having a pow-wow with his dead ex-girlfriend.

As ridiculous as it sounded, it had been true. He hadn't regretted it; now, after all of these years, he could finally find peace with Iola; with himself. What he did immeasurably regret was leaving Vanessa at all. Although the idea that Daley would return this soon had not even crossed his mind, it should have. But there was no time for chastisement now.

To see Vanessa falling apart, to hear what she'd been through, broke his heart. He wanted to hold her and protect her as much as he wanted to kill Daley. But when Vanessa had mentioned gunshots and shouting, he knew he had to get to his brother before Frank actually made that happen.

He'd taken Vanessa immediately to his dad inside; somehow, he knew she'd feel safe with him. He also knew that his dad would get the police to the building at once. Still, something told him that he needed to get there at once, and he prayed to God that it wasn't to find his brother hurt—or worse, in an impossible match against a deranged and armed criminal.

As he entered the room after finally arriving in the sprint of his lifetime, Joe stopped dead in his tracks, mouth falling open. Sucking in his breath, he assessed the entire situation in under three seconds.

One: his brother on his knees, staring at a still smoking gun in his hand.

Two: another smoking gun lying on the floor.

Three: the dead body of John Daley, covered in blood.

He heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching; a siren that had suddenly gone silent.

He realized at once what had happened.

No one would know the time frame—the events were too close together. He thought in an instant what his brother had gone through, what his future held. He thought of what Daley had done to Vanessa; how he'd hurt Callie. He recalled his spoken vow to Vanessa and Nancy that he would protect his brother, die for him if he needed to, rather than watch him live the rest of his life in hell. He knew what he needed to do.

Wordlessly, he knelt beside his brother and took the gun from his hand. Frank didn't even move.

Collig and at least five other officers burst through the door, guns drawn.

"What the hell?" Collig said softly as the officers next to him slowly lowered their revolvers.

Daley was dead. The Hardy brothers were on the floor, a gun in Joe's hand. The smell of gun-smoke filled the room.

Joe Hardy stood slowly and faced Chief Collig—his dad's friend and his own mentor of many years. He extended the gun, handle out, to the Chief. Gently, he placed it on the floor and put his hands up.

"I did it, Chief," he said slowly, looking like he was in a daze. "You can take me in."

Then Frank Hardy seemed to snap to life. Standing up, he walked next to his brother. There was blood on his clothing. "What?" he asked softly. "N… no," he stammered, meeting Collig's eyes. "He… he didn't--"

"I did," Joe replied, effectively silencing his brother.

The coroner's vehicle pulled up outside.

Shaking his head slowly, in absolute awe of the fact that one of these brothers was clearly lying for the other, in shock at the final conclusion of this unbelievable case that had shattered so many lives, staring at the dead body of his once decorated and now disgraced officer, Collig had to turn away for a moment.

One of his officers, a kid, really—no older than Frank Hardy-- asked him if he was okay.

_Now THERE'S the question with no answer_, he realized at once. There were no witnesses; there had been orders given to shoot and kill Daley anyway at first sighting. Daley had done irreparable damage; the Hardy brothers were as ethical and forthright as people came. One life barely deserved recognition; the other two lives hung in the balance. He thought of his years of friendship with Fenton Hardy and the horrors that these poor girls, living and dead, had gone through at Daley's hands. He knew he could—he should—turn a blind eye to these brothers and what one of them had done. It went against every rule that he knew in his heart was there for a purpose… but sometimes rules had to be broken, even at the cost of something as valuable as his own career.

But just as he was about to do something to the evidence all around him, Fenton Hardy entered the room, followed only by a person from the coroner's office who went to John Daley's body. Collig watched as Fenton realized in an instant what had happened and watched his face drain of color.

"It was me, Dad," Joe said gently to his father.

"No," Frank whispered. "Stop, Joe—please."

Fenton looked over to Collig and both friends exchanged a rare look, one that said, "It's up to you." It had only been exchanged one other time, long ago, on a case that even now neither could bear to think about. That time, Fenton had allowed Collig to take a chance on something. He realized that Collig was giving him the same opportunity now. Although they never spoke of it again, it was, Fenton knew, the reason for their strong loyalty to one another.

Fenton looked at Collig, who was leaving him with the decision. He looked at his boys, who had been through so much pain and who, even now, were going to go down or walk away from this mess together. Always—it would always be together.

His heart broke. It was a life or death decision, probably-- but he knew what to do. If he let them go, even if they, or at least one of them, had been totally justified in killing Daley, what message would that send them? He'd always taught them, and they had learned, to do the right thing.

Taking a small moment to reach over and cup the backs of both of their necks with his hands, he gently ruffled their hair. "It'll be okay. I'm here for you—all the way. I understand. I… I hope you do."

He turned away, blinking back tears, and nodded to Collig, who gave the smallest of smiles.

He walked to the Hardy brothers. "I… I guess if this has to be done, I'd like to be the one who does it." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He was shocked when he heard Frank's voice. "It's okay, Chief," Frank said firmly. "You're doing the right thing. Just make sure that my little brother over here isn't involved. You know as well as I do that he had nothing to do with it."

He held out his hands.

Joe felt tears fall onto his cheeks and he didn't even attempt to brush them away. He couldn't cover for Frank anymore—they'd find out anyway soon what had really happened. He could only help Frank now as emotional support. He considered the irony, seeing as though he was the one beginning to break down -- but still, Frank did not cry.

It wasn't fair. Frank would be changed forever, and for what? For taking out someone who didn't even deserve to live.

"It's okay, Joe," Frank said quietly. "Just stall in telling Callie, okay? I need to be the one to tell her."

Joe looked down. Even now, in impossible circumstances, Frank was looking out for everyone else instead of himself.

The sound of Collig's voice brought him back to the present, as did the sound of handcuffs snapping shut. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say--"

The voice droned on as Frank was led away.

It was only when Joe felt his dad's hand on his back guiding him out the door that he realized that maybe, if everything had worked out so far, that Fate had one more thing left in Her bag of tricks to save his brother—one last time.


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N. Wow- I cannot thank all of you enough for your kind reviews. _

_Alicia, I'm glad that you recently discovered the story and that you're enjoying it! Josie, franknjoe, and Helen, my steadfast friends here, thanks for your detailed reviews and for always making me smile! Dares to Dream, andi, angry penguin, bookworm 2009, cjloverforever, and DreamsofLeilani-- your reviews of the last chapter were very much appreciated. Thank you to all who continue to read and to review. I know the last chapter was kind of dark, but I hope that you all understand what happened with Frank, and that everything can satisfactorily resolve in your minds by the next, and last, chapter. Enjoy-- this is how I see Frank, and I hope that my story has lead you to understand what he's saying in a way that makes sense! :) And have faith-- everything gets tied together in the conclusion._

Here ya go- two days early!!

"Fire and Ice"

Chapter 31

Hours and hours passed at the police station.

Fenton had been going back and forth with the police, lawyers, the crime lab—anything he could do to help his son of this mess. He had done the right thing in allowing Frank to be taken here, he knew that—but the knowledge did nothing to lessen his pain or his guilt.

Joe was with Vanessa; he had to be. When Vanessa had been questioned, he hadn't left her side. He stayed with her as she recalled her attack and Daley's words; he stayed with her the entire evening, his body never physically losing contact with hers at all. He had begun to realize a lot of things about his life as a result of this case, and the magnitude of how much he loved Vanessa was more evident than he had even realized. What if Daley HAD hurt her? Raped her? Killed her? There would be no reason for him to keep living. Vanessa was his everything-- and he had been a complete fool not to tell her that every hour in every day. He would not make that mistake again.

Joe still could not stop the tears that never really left him. He had lost his brother in a very real sense. His wonderful and kind brother had seen what Joe had vowed he never would-- the loss of innocence. When Frank had thought Callie had been killed, he had been irreparably altered. He would KNOW what real loss and pain was about—that would be bad enough.

But still, Joe would have bet his life that his brother could never have killed anyone—ever. Frank was strong; he could take care of himself, and he was a formidable opponent. But he was, if nothing else, an empathetic person—he was always there for everyone, tried to see things from people's points of view.

That meant that the fact that Frank had thought he had lost Callie had had an even greater effect on him than even Joe had realized… and why shouldn't it have? Joe had acted out for years after Iola's death, but they had only been kids then. But Callie—well, she was the world to Frank; Joe knew that. Her loss would have been too much for Frank to take—even now, the thought must have made him go beyond who he was to kill a man.

He grieved deeply for the loss of the brother whom he grew up believing he knew better than anyone else and who, he now realized, he didn't know at all.

Fenton, Joe, Vanessa, the Shaws, Nancy and Ned, Andrea… everyone who had been involved in this case was waiting for some news of Frank here, in the station.

All of a sudden, four men walked into the room. Chief Collig, a lawyer, and what seemed to be two people from the crime lab came to the center of the room.

Collig cleared his throat before speaking. "I think there's something you all should know…."

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Joe entered the back room of the station where Frank was being held in what was essentially a cell. One of the officers opened the door for him and he sat down next to his brother. The door remained open.

"You're free to go," the officer said.

Frank looked up and nodded.

"Give me a minute, okay?" Joe asked, looking at the officer, who nodded in agreement.

When he was gone, Joe turned to his brother, almost at a complete loss. Frank sat in silence and stared ahead.

Finally, Joe could take it no longer. "Frank!" He said loudly, turning to his brother. "Why the hell didn't you say something?!"

Frank shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"The hell it doesn't!" Joe yelled and stood up, facing him. "Look at me!"

His voice was so forceful that Frank did as he was told.

Joe had tears in his eyes. "I'm not always great at expressing my feelings in an articulate way," he began, controlling his voice, "but it's better than you because you NEVER articulate your feelings! So I'm going to try, and you're going to listen, okay?"

"Joe--" Frank cut in.

"No! This is too much!" Joe yelled, and then again lowered his voice. "I'm furious, I'm relieved and incredibly happy, and I want to punch you in the head. How's that for a mixed bag, huh?"

"Joe, I'm sorry," Frank said quietly.

"Sorry?!" Joe asked, incredulous. "Sorry?! Bro, I was going to take the rap for you on this! I… I… Why didn't you tell me that you didn't shoot him—KILL him?"

Frank shook his head, face expressionless. "It doesn't matter," he repeated.

"Stop saying that! What's the matter with you?" Joe was openly crying now. He couldn't help himself. "Collig and the guys from the lab just came in. There were two bullet holes, Frank. I'm sure one was in self- defense; the one that killed him was from the one in his hand. He killed HIMSELF! Did you ever think of – you know—maybe MENTIONING that before Collig had to go crazy, Dad had to let you get arrested, Vanessa had to be dragged down here, and Callie had to find out about this? God, Frank—I don't understand!"

The mention of Callie's name caused a discernable shiver to go through Frank. "Callie knows?"

There was something so raw in Frank's question that Joe had to pause a moment. He shook his head and wiped back the tears. "No," Joe answered honestly. "I kept my word—she doesn't know yet."

Frank looked at his brother and reached out, touching his arm. Joe looked at him in such confusion that Frank felt terrible.

"Joe, I'm sorry," Frank responded at last. "I knew that the whole thing would get discovered quickly enough and I guess I wasn't really thinking. I … I can't tell you how much it meant to me that you were willing to--"

"No, you can't!" Joe snapped. "That's a hell of a time to 'not think', Frank."

Finally, Frank answered. "I didn't want Collig, or Dad—or YOU, Joe--to be disappointed in me. I've spent my whole life trying to show you that you have to do the right thing, even if it's hard, even if it seems impossible. I wanted you to believe I was a model for that; that I didn't really make mistakes; that I could rise above temptation."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked. Frank had finally gotten his attention, because he was being totally honest, and Joe saw it.

"Joe," Frank began, meeting his brother's eyes," When you were a kid, I always tried to be a good role model for you."

"You were, Frank," Joe cut in, but Frank interrupted.

"Listen to me. I KNOW I was. But when Iola died, I watched you fall apart. I tried everything in my power to keep you on the right path, and I… I couldn't do it."

Joe sighed. "Frank, Iola died a long time ago. What does this have to do with anything? And by the way, you DID help. You saved me…" He blushed, recalling those dark years.

"No, I didn't." Frank answered. "Vanessa did."

Joe could only stare at his brother.

"I know you love her. And I also know that she saved you, because I couldn't. You think—you built your life around-- this idea that I'm so innocent, that I never make mistakes, that I don't really feel like you when it comes to wanting vengeance. But you don't totally know me, Joe. I just realized that Dad doesn't, either. And I guess that even means that Callie doesn't as well." Frank looked up, meeting Joe's eyes. "I mean, you know me better than most people, but I guess I've never shown you the real me; the full me."

"I don't follow," Joe answered. He was captivated.

"I've always admired you—because with you, what you see is what you get. You don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. Who I see is who Vanessa sees is who everyone sees. I mean, of course you have things that you share with Vanessa or me that no one else knows, but, for the most part, when people see you, they know you—you're JOE." Frank tried to find the right words. He had worked all of his life not to have this conversation with his brother, but here it was.

"Okayyyyy," Joe answered.

"But with me, Joe—it's different. People expect you to be you—they expect me to be who THEY THINK I AM. Dad expects me to be responsible and the perfect role model, so that's what I give him. You know a lot more than Dad about me, obviously—we've been through so much together. You know we've had a lot of fun over the years, and you know that I can be a lot of things—a good student, a good athlete, a good detective—a good brother. But they all have in common the idea that I'm GOOD at it. So I have to try to be, and I have a lot of pressure not to fail. And I haven't—until now."

"But you ARE good--" Joe said.

"No. I'm okay. Just like you and everyone else. I make mistakes. Callie and I have done everything together, Joe. But through it all, I have to be the one who can protect her, not let her down… I failed there, too."

Joe shook his head. "You DIDN'T fail."

Frank sighed. "Maybe I should be more like you. I think that's what I've gotten out of this case, Joe. Maybe I should tell Dad that I hate criminal law and learning the police codes. I should tell him that I hate it when he goes through my files without asking, or when he's late to a meeting. Or that I hate the stupid sweetener he puts in my coffee."

Despite himself, Joe smiled. "You do?" he asked.

"Yeah," Frank replied. "I also kind of admired when you cut school. And you want to know what else?"

"Sure," Joe smiled.

"I make mistakes all the time, Joe—I'm not perfect. I used to pretend that I was mad at you for getting in trouble in school all the time, but I was secretly jealous that you could charm the teachers into not giving you detention. I cheated on a History test once. I blamed Aunt Gertrude once for leaving on the oven at night and almost starting a fire, but guess what? It was me. I was tired and I fell asleep."

Joe laughed. "THIS was your big secret?" he asked. "Man, I thought you were hiding something major from me."

Frank's smile faltered a bit. "Let me go on. I was the one who thought it would be a good idea for Callie and Iola to get involved in politics at school. If I didn't do that, Iola might still be alive."

Joe was stunned. Frank felt GUILTY about Iola's death. "No," he started.

"Yes," Frank answered. "I always try to show you to do the right thing, but what do I do? I do the wrong thing and just don't let you see it. I cut school, too, Joe—A LOT in Senior year of high school. Callie did, too. We just never got caught because the teachers and everyone assumed that we would never do anything like that, and they all bought our excuses. Did you know that?"

Shocked, Joe shook his head.

"I did everything you did, but made you feel guilty about it. I drank before I was 21; I got involved in things I probably shouldn't have on occasion in college. Those same parties you always went to? I was ORGANZING them in college. Did you know I was part of a Fraternity? Did you know that Callie and I have gone on vacations together over the years but told our parents that we were different places? Did you know that I was offered a full scholarship for baseball to Bayport University but I turned it down?"

"But you went on full scholarship to college," Joe responded, shocked.

"Academic scholarship. There was only one sports scholarship left to go to B.U. It was either me or to be saved for the most promising Senior the next year."

"But…" Then it hit him. Frank was telling him that he had turned down a sports scholarship so that Joe could attend B.U. on a full athletic scholarship. All of these years he'd had no idea.

"I… I don't know what to say," Joe responded honestly. "But still, Frank—I mean, you're human. I'm sorry if I put pressure on you—probably more than I'll ever know—to be a perfect brother, but you know—I mean, you're still the perfect brother to me, okay? Although I do find myself impressed with some of the stunts you pulled…" He smiled.

Frank, however, did not. "You don't understand, Joe. That's the tip of the iceberg. I mean, don't get me wrong—I still think I'm a pretty good guy, but what I'm saying is that maybe, all along, I was wrong not to show you who I really am—totally. Maybe Callie should hear me cursing at the bad guys on our cases or see me in a fight; maybe you should see me mess up and recognize it," he went on.

"Okay," Joe said. "Lighten up, Frank. Stop being so hard on yourself."

Frank met his brother's eyes, totally serious. "LISTEN to me," he urged, again. "The point I'm trying to make is that, since this case, everything really HAS changed for me. I always felt guilty about Iola—I never told you that. But you know what? Now I DO know what you've been through; it's just my outcome was different."

"That I know," Joe answered. "And I'm sorry you had to go through it."

Frank shook his head, wanting desperately for Joe to understand. "Joe, please. This case has made me see that since I show so many sides to so many people, that really—I don't even know myself anymore. I realized that when I was in with Daley. I can't tell you how much rage I felt…" His voice faltered.

"I know," Joe emphasized. "I felt it too, when Iola died. I wanted to kill whoever took her from me. You're preaching to the choir. Believe me, I understand."

"No, you don't." Frank's tone was so serious that Joe was startled. "I finally realized something about myself, Joe. I think my purpose in this life really is to protect the people I love. Above all else, that is you and Callie."

Joe still couldn't speak. Frank NEVER expressed himself like this, and he had a sinking feeling it was leading somewhere he did NOT want to go.

"I do know, now, that bad things really can happen. I guess I've known it all along, but it's never affected me the way that it affected you because of Iola."

"MMM HMMM," Joe murmured, waiting for Frank to come out with it.

"But when Daley almost killed Callie, something snapped inside of me. I could only think about murder. I didn't think I was capable of that."

"Frank," Joe sighed, "You didn't kill Daley."

"You asked me before why I didn't say anything, and I told you that it didn't matter," Frank answered. "Because that's the truth."

"What is?" Joe asked, confused.

"The truth is," Frank answered at last, "That I would have. I pulled the trigger, Joe. I shot him. It was only by pure happenstance that he moved just enough so that my shot didn't kill him. He was so shocked—he heard the police coming, knew what was inevitable. And in the last moment, he picked up the gun by him and shot himself. He only did what I tried to. It wasn't in self-defense, Joe, like you thought it was. He didn't fire at me at all. I just wanted him dead."

Joe stared at Frank in utter shock.

"I think the worst part is that I don't feel bad about it—not at all. So you see, it doesn't matter—what I said was true. Whether I killed him or he killed himself, the end result is the same. And if I had the chance to do it again, the only thing I would do differently is that I'd be a better shot the first time. Then, at least, I could have gotten some sense of closure."

Frank stood up and made his way to the open door. "Let's go, Joe. I hope you don't think I'm a bad person; I hope I didn't completely shatter your conception of me." Tears shone in Frank's eyes. "I want to know why I felt like that. I didn't think I could be the kind of person who would ever intentionally hurt someone else, no matter how bad that person is or was. I just need to sit down and figure myself out—who am I when I don't have you? When I don't have Callie?"

Joe walked over and slung an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Fortunately, big brother, you'll never have to find that out."

They headed out together, prepared to face whatever the future would hold. Joe only prayed that, finally, it would bring peace for all of them.


	32. Conclusion

_See my note at the end. Enjoy!!_

"Fire and Ice"

Conclusion

_Three Months Later_

Waiting

"Ya nervous?"

Callie was snapped from her reverie as she heard Vanessa's voice. Vanessa, who had been quietly sitting with her in the limousine for the last few minutes while her other bridesmaids and her parents went inside to the waiting area at the front of the church, now reached over to her and took her hand. Callie gave it a quick squeeze back.

Smiling at her friend, Callie let out a deep breath before replying. "I can't believe I'm shaking already. So, yeah—I'd say I'm nervous."

"Don't worry," Vanessa relied seriously. "I'm sure if Frank tries to run Joe will tackle him for you. It might get a little messy, but Frank won't leave that church."

Despite herself, Callie laughed. Then her face turned more serious. "I just can't believe that it's here already," she managed, and blinked back tears. "Oh!" She reached for a tissue that Vanessa promptly handed to her and dabbed at her eyes. "I can't believe it. I didn't think I'd cry at all today."

Vanessa laughed. "You have all day to cry," she replied, and reached over and hugged Callie tightly. Blinking back her own tears, she tried to hold herself together for Callie. This was IT. After years together, a long engagement, and more drama than she could have ever thought possible, Frank and Callie were getting married today. Vanessa was overjoyed—for all of them.

"I guess it's now or never," Callie replied. It was all she could manage. She had told herself time and time again that she would—she could—hold it together on her wedding day. But so much had happened; her emotions were running rampant and she could barely control herself. Frank—HER Frank-- would be her husband today. After all they had been through, it seemed fitting that they had planned their wedding on New Year's Eve. It was going to be a new day, a new start, in every way possible.

"Cal?" Vanessa interjected.

"Yeah?" Callie whispered.

Vanessa reached over and again took Callie's hand. "I love you."

Callie smiled and didn't let go. "I love you, too. I'm glad that you'll be there with me at the altar," she replied, and started to get up.

"Well, I'd say you're just about ready to become Mrs. Frank Hardy, then," Vanessa answered, as Callie nodded and slowly made her way from the car.

Vanessa watched as Callie met her father on the church steps. He was absolutely beaming as he reached for her arm and spoke quietly to her.

Vanessa stopped just to take in the moment. They were all here; they were all okay. Callie looked absolutely stunning; in all her life, Vanessa didn't think she had seen a more beautiful bride. Smiling at the memory, Vanessa recalled how she had talked Callie into going into New York to pick out the perfect dress with all of her bridesmaids, friends from high school and college. They'd had a blast that weekend, taking in a Broadway play, going to a club, just being together. But Callie hadn't been able to find THE dress.

They had gone to various bridal stores, but Callie had been insistent that she wanted an understated, elegant gown with long sleeves for her winter wedding. While it would have been a very "Callie" thing to buy, Vanessa and the other bridesmaids had insisted on Callie trying every other style; mermaid dresses, form fitting ones, A-lines… the selection had been endless. And, while she had looked lovely in all of them, nothing had really stood out.

Then, Vanessa had seen it. It was the showcase gown by a top designer in the _Kleinfeld's _wedding store. Just passing the window, all the girls had stopped… well, all except for Callie.

"What?" Callie had asked. "Is everything okay?"

"You're trying this on," Vanessa and Liz Webling, a close friend, had exclaimed simultaneously.

"Trying what—" Callie began, and then had burst out laughing when she saw the dress. "Are you KIDDING me? Let's go."

"You're trying it on," Liz reiterated.

"Cal, it's PERFECT. It's gorgeous. It's amazing. It's--" began Callie's friend Donna, a sorority sister from college.

"It's HUMONGOUS!" Callie interjected. "Are you girls serious? I'd take up the whole church with that thing! It's the entire opposite dress of what I've been looking for. Plus…" she peered in the window. "Oh, yes. It's 22,500."

"Maybe they'd knock off the 500," Liz added with a wry smile.

"Come on!" Vanessa interjected. "Try it on. You know you can't afford it, but maybe that STYLE of dress would appeal to you."

As much as Callie had tried to resist, Vanessa and the others had dragged her into the store. Vanessa knew that the woman in charge of appointments probably shouldn't have let Callie try it on. The dress was the showcase piece. Maybe it was the fact that the store wasn't as busy as usual. Maybe it was the glance at Callie's flawless three- carat engagement ring. Vanessa didn't know what it was, but something about them must have seemed serious enough, must have implied that they had enough money, to try on the dress.

As soon as she emerged from the dressing room, it seemed like the store stood still. Other brides and passersby stopped to look, and Vanessa felt tears spring to her eyes. Callie looked incredible. The dress was big; very big, but it was breathtaking. The simple bodice showcased Callie's perfect figure, and the bottom exploded into layers and layers of satin fabric bunched together. The waist was accentuated with crystals that were found only again on the sweetheart neckline and the off the shoulder sleeves. Callie looked like the model bride that all little girls aspired to be. As grandiose as the dress was, it had an elegance about it that was unquestionable. _Classic and unexpected. Just like Callie. _

Even Callie, when she looked in the mirror, seemed surprised by the effect.

The only disappointment that day had been when Callie had taken off the dress, thanked the salesperson, and began to head out of the store. That was when the clerk told Callie that, after the designer showcase, that premier gown would be put up for a drawing for some lucky bride. Callie had just smiled, but Vanessa had, unbeknownst to her, stopped to enter Callie in the drawing.

Some months had passed, and Callie had tried on dozens of gowns but still hadn't purchased one. Nothing had compared to that day in New York. And then, in July, right before the nightmare case had begun, Callie had been given a phone call; she had won the drawing.

Fate had shined upon her. All they had had to do was to find the perfect veil, shoes, and accessories. To that end, Callie wore a delicate bracelet that Vanessa had given her the night before, at the rehearsal dinner, that said simply, "Sisters are forever."

Now, as Vanessa left the car and lined up to take her place among the bridesmaids to walk down the aisle, she couldn't help but to smile at the thought of what Frank was about to see………..

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"There's still time to bail," Joe teased his brother as they stood together in the back room of the church. The ceremony was to begin in less than ten minutes and Frank's other ushers were busy escorting last minute guests into the now-packed church. The murmurs had begun that the bride was arriving, and everyone was getting ready in anticipation as cameras started emerging everywhere.

Frank smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Do all guys give that warning to each other before they get married?" he asked.

Joe laughed. "It's not a warning, Frank. Think of it more as a 'friendly reminder.' It's a guy's job to look out for his fellow man," he replied in answer.

"Wow. There are a lot of people out there." Frank glanced through the almost-closed door into the church.

"Well, you're having an awesome band, tons of food and an open bar on New Year's Eve, so hey—I'd come, too," Joe answered with a twinkle in his eye.

"Do you have the rings?" Frank asked, ignoring his brother.

"Oh crap!" Joe responded in fake horror. "I think I lost them somewhere between the fourteenth and fifteenth time you asked me that." Seeing Frank's nervousness, Joe's eyes softened. "Relax. Everything will be great; believe me." He patted Frank on the shoulder.

Frank turned to him and nodded. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face and he reached over and squeezed Joe's shoulder. "I know it will. Thanks for being here with me."

"Well, of course. I'll get a first peek at Vanessa; I can't miss that!" he quipped. Then he added "I heard that Callie will look okay, too, in case you were worried."

Frank rolled his eyes and then turned his attention again to the inside of the church. He checked his watch again. Five minutes to go.

As Joe watched his brother nervously prepare to take his vows, he felt a lump form in his throat that he quickly tried to swallow. As much as he was teasing Frank, he knew that this moment was so important in all of their lives. Frank was getting married. It was so surreal. Looking at his brother all dressed up, he was flooded with a thousand memories.

Throughout their lives, they had grown up together and today was no exception. Joe thought of family vacations, playing ball in the backyard, dating, high school, college, hundreds of cases, hanging out, talking, joking around: and he realized that his whole life had, in a very real sense, been built around his brother.

Frank's admission that he would have killed Daley did nothing to diminish his importance in Joe's eyes. In fact, it had inadvertently opened a new door for both of them, and their relationship was stronger than ever. Frank's admission, along with the very real sense of incredible loss he had felt when he had thought that Callie had died, had, in fact, changed Frank, as Joe had feared it would. But, in his usual manner of always surprising him, Frank's change had turned out for the better.

Joe knew that both of them were now forever altered knowing what it would be like to lose someone so important in their lives. That bond was unbreakable, and Joe did see something in Frank's eyes that hadn't been there before; but it wasn't bitterness or revenge—it was knowledge and understanding. And why shouldn't it be? Frank was older when he thought he had lost Callie than Joe had been when he had lost Iola; Frank and Callie had had years together, whereas Joe and Iola had been given maybe one year. Yes, Frank was different now—but he was more open, more willing to share his emotions, and more willing to live his life understanding, REALLY understanding, that the most precious things could be taken from him at any moment.

For that reason, he had surprised Joe when he started talking a lot more about not only his life in general, but his emotions. When it finally dawned on Frank that Joe didn't think he was a bad brother for keeping to himself for fear he would be a poor role model, he REALLY started to share things—and Joe had been pretty impressed. They'd shared plenty of laughs trading tips on how they had gotten away with things over the years, and how Frank had managed to get away with far more than Joe could have ever imagined.

Those conversations had created another bond; a knowledge that Frank was really sharing himself fully with Joe and with others. Frank had introduced Joe to many of his college friends whom he hadn't known before, and they were exactly indicative of the kind of person who Frank was—eclectic and nice. Frank's genuine kindness and ability to be nice to everyone he met had afforded him the opportunity to have various kinds of friends. It was exactly why Frank had been friends, in high school, with everyone from the jocks, of which he was one, to the quiet kids to the smart ones. Everyone liked Frank Hardy, and Joe had always been proud of that. Even though he had been even the more popular of the two in school, he tended to hang around with the wilder kids and had a harder time keeping up his reputation for harmless mischief. Frank, never caring to impress one person or another, treated everyone the same. And THAT was why the church was packed tonight.

"Ready?" Joe found himself asking.

"I think so," Frank answered. He turned to his brother. "I couldn't do this without you here. Maybe I'll trade places with you one day, huh?"

Joe just smiled.

"I wanted to show you something before we go out there, though." Frank reached into his jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper.

"You decided to write your own vows?" Joe asked. He'd been surprised that Frank and Callie hadn't decided to do that. Frank, though, had said that there was something nice about tradition, something real about saying the words that millions of people had said before when they pledged their lives to each other. _Besides,_ he'd added, _Callie knows how I feel. And I don't feel like crying in front of 300 people_.

Frank laughed before answering. "No," he began. "You can do that when it's your turn one day. But thanks for restoring my faith in you that you can continue to beat a dead horse over and over again."

"Whatever," Joe replied, shaking his head.

In the background, soft music from inside the church began to play.

"Callie gave me this poem last night. She said that she wanted to give me something to think about given everything we've been through together. I thought I would share it with you, since I think it applies to you and me, too."

Joe stared at Frank for a moment, touched that Frank was, once again, sharing something so personal to him.

"It's called 'Fire and Ice' and it's by Robert Frost. Don't worry—it's short." Frank gave a quick smile and opened the paper. "Some say the world will end in fire/ Some say in ice./ From what I've tasted of desire/ I hold with those who favor fire./But if it had to perish twice/

I think I know enough of hate/ To say that for destruction ice/ Is also great/And would suffice."

"Uh… okay," Joe stammered. "I was kind of expecting a love poem or something."

"It is," Frank answered. "But it's more than that. It kind of says that sometimes we take different paths in life. You know, some of us are like fire and some are like ice. But the end result is the same—if you love each other, it doesn't matter how different you are, because you'll always end up in the same place. Together." With a wink at his brother, Frank opened the church door and began to walk out.

Blinking back tears, Joe whispered "I love you, too," as he followed his brother to the altar.

Until Forever

The reception room was beautiful. Decorated in reds, whites, and blacks, it evoked a sense of timeless elegance. Nancy looked around and breathed in deeply. Ned smiled at her reassuringly and she felt better immediately. Although she still felt awkward about her presence at Frank and Callie's wedding, she was beginning to think that things would turn out okay after all.

Callie and Frank looked stunning together, a real life version of Barbie and Ken. The ceremony had been beautiful, with tears all around as people applauded the official union of two people who, she knew, were really, truly meant to be together.

She had watched keenly how Frank's eyes never left Callie, how the look on his face when he first saw Callie expressed more than what a million words could have. For the first time she had known him, she watched as Frank shed tears of joy as he dedicated his life to the woman he loved.

Now, as the reception was in full swing, she finally found her moment, saw an opening as Callie left the room alone for a moment, heading towards the restroom. Taking a deep breath, she followed her, finally getting her alone.

Callie turned as Nancy touched her arm, and Nancy was fully prepared for an icy reception. To her utter surprise, Callie greeted her warmly. "Hi, Nancy. I'm glad you and Ned could come," she said sincerely.

"You look beautiful," Nancy replied, feeling awkward, but knowing she had to talk to Callie, if only for a moment.

"Thanks," Callie answered, then gave a little laugh. "I'm a little worried about fitting in the bathroom stall with this thing, though." She pointed to the train of her dress. "Actually," she added, "I'm even more surprised that Frank could dance with me with this dress. I think I'll feel like I lost 30 pounds when I get changed!"

Nancy was stunned—Callie was joking with her. She really was a class act. Nancy felt a flush crawl to her cheeks. What could she say? It seemed wrong to, in any way, diminish Callie's happiness. Not knowing where to start, she told her that.

Callie looked puzzled. "Nancy, you couldn't make me less happy. I'm on top of the world tonight. Forever," she added with a smile. "What's wrong?"

"I just—I guess I wanted to thank you guys for allowing me to be here tonight. I didn't know if you'd want to invite me or not. I figured that you would tell Frank not to have me here, and I wouldn't blame you."

Callie's expression softened. "Nancy, thank you for the help on the case. I know all about it, and I think that you really were an invaluable part of the team. You probably were a major factor in making sure I was okay. I'd…" She paused for a moment, contemplative. "I'd rather not talk about it—not tonight—but I have no problem with you. You're Frank's friend; maybe one day, you'll be mine, too."

"Really?" Nancy whispered. Her natural voice left her as she listened to Callie's words.

"Really," Callie answered. "And for your information, I told Frank to make sure that you were invited. You know, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer," she added.

Seeing the look on Nancy's face, Callie laughed. "I'm kidding, Nancy." She reached out her arms. "Friends, okay? Hug on it?"

As Nancy embraced Callie, she felt a huge burden lifted from her shoulders. Frank and Callie were perfect together, as she and Ned were as well. It had taken a very stupid mistake to show her that.

"I'm only half kidding, though," Callie added with a wink. "Now I need to visit the ladies room before Frank thinks I ran away!"

Nancy looked after Callie with an awestruck smile.

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A half hour later, across the room, Joe stopped to take a drink, eyes never leaving Vanessa, who was now trying to show his father, in vain, how to do the Electric Slide. It would have been pretty comical, but he felt his heart beating wildly in his chest and found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. He had to talk to his brother.

That, it was turning out, was getting to be almost impossible. After pictures, there was a maelstrom of people dancing, laughing, and talking with Frank and Callie who, more than ever before, were joined at the hip. The wedding was a blast, but still classy and elegant. Everyone was having a wonderful time.

Joe checked his watch. It was 11:45. Only 15 minutes to go until the New Year. And only a little over an hour left for the reception.

He couldn't take it anymore. Working his way slowly across the crowded dance floor, he finally found his brother talking to the Shaws, arm firmly wrapped around Callie's waist. Well, what the hell? He might as well talk to Callie, too. It was a year of new beginnings.

"Sorry to interrupt," Joe apologized. "I was just wondering if I could talk to you guys?"

"Now?" Callie asked.

"It was a thought," Joe replied, trying to slow the beating of his heart. He watched as Frank and Callie exchanged a look, and then ushered him over to a quiet area outside the reception room.

When they finally arrived, Joe was surprised by how quiet it was. They stood next to a huge window, stars of fire, of ice, gleaming in the air.

"Would you like to talk to Frank alone?" Callie asked, still holding onto Frank's hand.

He almost said yes, but then he realized he didn't care. Callie was his sister now; it was appropriate that she should be there.

"No," Joe replied and gave Callie a small smile. "I just-- uh-- I--"

he stuttered, realizing how silly he must sound. Why couldn't he talk?

Callie and Frank said simultaneously "Go on," and then looked at each other and smiled.

Finally, he knew that the only way to say it was to just come out with it. "I, uh-- I know it's your wedding; your night. But I have a favor to ask you."

"Are you okay?" Frank asked.

"Let him finish," Callie replied gently. "Sure, Joe. What's up?"

Joe let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding before he began. He hid his shaking hands in his pocket. "There's no way to really say this other than to just say it, and I understand if you say no."

"Just say it, Joe," Frank encouraged.

"I know this is your wedding night, but I wanted to do something memorable… and I'd like to ask your permission to ask Vanessa to marry me tonight." He met their eyes.

Joe watched as Callie slowly covered her mouth with her hand and saw the tears spring to her eyes. Frank, whose mouth had fallen open, suddenly burst into a huge smile.

"Oh, Joe!" Callie managed at last. She stepped to him and hugged him tightly. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!! Oh my God! I would jump up and down with excitement. Well, If I could…." She pointed at her dress again.

Joe returned the hug and looked at his brother, who mouthed "yes" and gave him a small -thumbs up sign behind Callie.

"So what's the plan?" Callie asked, stepping back and meeting Joe's eyes.

With a conspiratorial smile of his own that he couldn't hide, he put an arm around Frank and Callie and led them back into the reception room.

_Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

_Happy New Year!!_

All around him, people were hugging and kissing as they celebrated the ending of one year and the promise that the New Year ahead would hold. Joe pulled Vanessa close and kissed her deeply; there was always an opportunity for a little affection, no matter how serious the upcoming moments would be.

Frank and Callie had done a masterful job of shielding the crowd from getting too close to Joe and Vanessa. Joe saw Andrea, Vanessa's mom, across the room, and nodded. She smiled in anticipation.

All at once, the lights in the room went on and people got a bit quieter. Joe felt his brother slip the microphone into his hand. This was it.

Vanessa looked totally confused. It was perfect.

"Happy New Year everybody!" Joe said into the microphone, and was answered with the same in return. "I hope that this year brings everyone what they most want. I know we already did the toasts, but I'd like to wish Callie and Frank, again, a lifetime of happiness and to thank them for the wonderful time that we're all having tonight."

There was applause and several hoots all over.

"It's also a very special night for me. I now officially get to start harassing Cal and Frank about being an old married couple. Oh, that's right—they've been an old married couple since high school."

Everyone laughed as Callie and Frank blushed, but smiled.

"In all seriousness, this IS a special night for me, maybe the most important of my life." He took a deep breath and turned to Vanessa. "You see," he said into the microphone for all to hear, but speaking directly to her, "Frank and Callie actually gave me a very special gift tonight. They allowed me to take some time from their wedding, and allowed me to think about mine." He took Vanessa's hand. She stood, absolutely shocked.

"This night is all about love. We're here to celebrate Frank and Callie's love for each other, and the love we have for them. But I have to say-- publicly-- how much I love this woman here with me tonight, Ms. Vanessa Bender."

He didn't hear the applause or the cat -calls. All he heard was his own heartbeat as he looked into Vanessa's eyes, now bright with tears.

"I love you, Van," he said, simply. "And I'd like to take this opportunity to ask you publicly to change your name." He got down on one knee and took out a ring, slipping it onto Vanessa's finger. "Will you marry me?"

The room burst into excitement and applause as Vanessa, sobbing, threw herself into Joe's arms. Holding her close, he thanked God for this night… thanked Iola silently for her approval, which he knew he had.

"Uh, is that a yes?" He asked.

Vanessa pulled back from him, tears streaming down her face. "Yes—a million times" she whispered as people rushed to the couple to give their congratulations.

"Why did you pick tonight?" she asked.

"Because I'll never forget the date," he joked. Then he kissed her fingertips. "Happy New Year, baby."

An hour later, as the reception finally came to a close, and the last song began to play, Joe looked around the room, heart swelling in happiness. The icicle décor, the winter lights…. It was a gorgeous combination of ice and fire, fire and ice; how things were never how you really expected them to be.

He watched Frank and Callie dance, their lips only inches apart, as they whispered things to each other meant for only them to share. They both looked radiant, and Joe knew it was only beginning of a beautiful life for them.

He then turned to Vanessa, glowing in his own arms, and tilted her face to his…

Knowing there were angels in the room, giving their blessings from above.

The End.

_Well, this was it! I hope that you have all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have to admit that, at times, lack of reviews or flames got me down. However, as the story progressed, I felt so supported._

_To that end..._

_First, I MUST thank JD for being such a wonderful BETA throughout the whole writing process. You are the best! Second, this story would have been trashed a long time ago had it not been for my good friend RED whose enthusiasm, support, and detailed comments on each chapter kept me inspired. Thank you sooooooo much!! Your talents inspire me and you've always had my back!!_

_I also want to thank Phoenix for your reviews and also for your support when I was down. :) I cannot thank the people who commented on a really regular basis and whose feedback meant so much to me. If I write again, you all will be the major reason why. So-- a BIG THANK YOU to Helen, Alicia Lily, franknjoe, KimmyD, violetsunshine, dr drew, bookworm2009, angrypenguin, Dreams of Leilani, josie (at HDA) and Reney C._

_Also, many of you stopped by to comment whenever you could, and I so appreciate your kindness. Thank you to the following people who did drop a few notes-- I read each with enthusiasm and many a smile! andy-c, amblewat, amethyst, auroradannon, bhar, BM originally, dares to dream, cjloverforever, elja, Fandemonium, jabh, Keri, Lazypanther, Lila, missfenway, missme113, missy, mvblgrl55, nancyfan, Polaris, Rini, Risha, Roswalyn, Sinful Ashe, Sara, Shani8, simply.Dior, sleuth girl, smabentley, sparks, and ukfanid. (I realize this is in alphabetical order-- That is the nerdy me!)_

_I'm not sure if I am in the creative mindset to write at the moment, but I do have several other stories already written. I cringe at some of the early chapters in the next story, (it was written about 6 years ago)-- and the story is very different from this one-- but if you can stick it out and bear with some of the earlier, less advanced writing, i hope you'll all enjoy the story behind "Make a Wish"-- which I'll post by the weekend_

Thank you all so much!!


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